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OR, PERILS AND ADVENTURES 
OF TENNESSEE PIONEERS 

BY OCT AVI A ZOLLICOFFER BOND 




1906 



SMITH & LAMAR, PUBLISHING HOUSE OF METHODIST EPISCOPAL 
CHURCH, SOUTH, NASHVILLE, TENNESSEE, AND DALLAS, TEXAS 






LIBRARY of CONGRESS 
TwoGoDies Received 

APR 21 1906 

S) Copyright Entry 
CLASS Cb XXc, No, 
COPY B. 



Copyright, 1906, 

BY 

The Book Agents of the 
M. E. Church, South. 



PREFACE. 



The aim of this little book is to cause inquiry into 
the facts which it relates. To enjoy the whole story 
one must read the writings of the historians Haywood, 
Ramsay, Imlay, Bartram, Monette, Parton, Reid, Ea- 
ton, Roosevelt, Guild, Phelan, Gilmore, Paschal, Col- 
lier, and many others from which these fragments have 
been gathered and set in order. It is not expected 
that "Old Tales Retold" will take the place of text- 
books. That, as finger posts, they may point the 
way to the delights of Tennessee history is the sim- 
ple intent of The Author. 

5 



CONTENTS. 



PAGE 

Introduction 9 

CHAPTER I. 
The Great Chief Chisca on the Mound n 

CHAPTER II. 
A Gentle Savage 25 

CHAPTER III. 
Lost on the Mountain 39 

CHAPTER IV. 
The Interrupted Feast S 2 

CHAPTER V. 
A Snake in the Grass 63 

CHAPTER VI. 
Incidents of Early Times 74 

CHAPTER VII. 
The Voyage of the Adventure 86 

CHAPTER VIII. 
The Hornets' Nest 93 

CHAPTER IX. 
On to King's Mountain 102 

CHAPTER X. 
A Famous Rescue i J 9 

CHAPTER XL 

The Battle of the Bluffs 123 

7 



Old Tales Retold. 

CHAPTER XII. page 

The Squaw's Prophecy 134 

CHAPTER XIII. 
Night Assault on Buchanan's Station 154 

CHAPTER XIV. 
Nickajack, or Prophecy Fulfilled 168 

CHAPTER XV. 
The Sovereign's Will 176 

CHAPTER XVI. 
A Typical Pioneer Life 180 

CHAPTER XVII. 
On the Natchez Trace with Meriwether Lewis 187 

CHAPTER XVIII. 
The Fiber of "Old Hickory" 198 

CHAPTER XIX. 
A Reckoning with the Spaniards 214 

CHAPTER XX. 
A Day We Celebrate 219 

CHAPTER XXI. 
The Fall of the Alamo 230 

CHAPTER XXII. 
A Tennesseean in Texas 239 

CHAPTER XXIII. 
Sam Davis 248 

8 



INTRODUCTION. 



I have just read with unusual pleasure Mrs. Zolli- 
coffer Bond's charming new book entitled "Old Tales 
Retold," a series of stories of early Tennessee life 
and history. They are not fiction. Mrs. Bond has 
woven into these entertaining stories the substantial 
historical facts that form the basis of each of her 
retold tales. One is often surprised at her strict fidel- 
ity to the details of history. 

She has followed the annals of Ramsay and Put- 
nam and the later historical chronicles with faithful 
and painstaking exactness, yet she has succeeded in 
selecting the most interesting incidents in the pioneer 
life of Tennessee, and has narrated them in a way 
so full of interest that they are sure to entertain and 
instruct all classes of readers, and especially our 
younger students, more than any history of Tennes- 
see yet written. No schoolbook can fill the place of 
these "Retold Tales." The author has successfully 
ventured into a new and fruitful literary field. She 
tells the story of Ferdinand De Soto in a few brief 
pages that give the young reader the charm of the 
real romance of this brilliant but ill-fated Spanish 
adventurer. The pathos and tragedy of the surrender 
of Fort Loudon will leave a lasting impression of 
the historic facts upon the mind of the reader. 

The savage attack on the fort at Watauga, the es- 
cape of bonny Kate Sherrill, the thrilling story of 
King's Mountain, the assault upon Buchanan's Sta- 

9 



Old Tales Retold. 

tion, the "Battle of the Bluffs" at Nashville, are all 
told in such an engaging way that these stirring 
events in the early history of the State will be long 
remembered. In an incidental way these stories also 
give us a lifelike picture of the noble and rugged char- 
acter of James Robertson, the father and founder of 
Nashville, and of our brilliant and magnetic soldier- 
governor John Sevier, and of the intrepid heroism of 
Andrew Jackson. The author also carries us along 
the famous "Natchez Trace," and weaves into her 
story the tragic fate of the lamented young hero of 
American history, Meriwether Lewis. 

But these entertaining stories must be read to be 
appreciated. They are elevating and instructive. 
They will give the rising generation of Tennesseeans 
more admiration and respect for the hardy and in- 
telligent pioneers who invaded the wilderness and 
built up our Western civilization. 

G. P. Thruston. 

Nashville, December, 1905. 

IO 



OLD TALES RETOLD. 



i. 

THE GREAT CHIEF CHISCA ON THE MOUND. 

There was a time, long ago, when the Chickasaw 
Indians lived in a vast forest on the Mississippi River 
where Memphis, Tenn., now stands. The Chicka- 
saws were ruled for many years by the famous war- 
rior Chisca, whose lodge was on top of an ancient 
mound near the village called Chisca. The lodge was 
surrounded by a stout wall of logs, and could be 
reached only by climbing two long ladders placed one 
above the other against the steep side of the mound. 
The great chief had not been seen by his people since 
the days of his youth. He had shut himself in his 
lodge, which was guarded by chosen warriors night 
and day, and none but his nearest of kin, his counselors, 
and the mystery man of the nation were allowed to 
ascend the two long ladders. Chisca had hidden him- 
self from public view for so many years that only 
those who attended him knew what he looked like, 
though he was believed to be a man of marvelous 
strength, whose powers and youthful appearance would 
never leave him, no matter how old he might be. 

In the village the young braves boasted of their 
king, saying: "Chisca is a tall sycamore tree. His 
strong arm is a bough of oak." The older warriors, 

ii 



Old Tales Retold. 

who obeyed the slightest command received from him 
through his counselors, declared their belief that "The 
word of our chief is the voice of the Great Spirit." 
And so far did the fame of his deeds extend that the 
boldest of unfriendly tribes dared not molest him. It 
was agreed among the neighboring chiefs that it would 
be unwise to attack the Chickasaws. "For," they 
asked, "who is strong enough to overcome Chisca in 
battle? What arrow is sharp enough to pierce the 
great chief of the Chickasaws, who bears a charmed 
life?" 

Safe under the protection of their chieftain's name, 
the Chickasaws would have feared nothing from out- 
side foes had it not been that an evil prophecy had 
come down to them through many generations of 
mystery men. Time out of mind, a great calamity 
had been foretold by each prophet of the nation. And 
now came Chisca's mystery man, also, beating his 
sacred drum in the village street, shaking the rattles 
on his arms, and crying dolefully: "Out of the land 
of the rising sun will come an army of pale-faced 
strangers who w T ill kill all the red men and utterly 
destroy our nation." 

Eclipses of the sun or moon, violent storms, and 
other convulsions of nature were accepted as warn- 
ings that the evil day was near. When, early one 
spring, the Miche Scpe (Great River, or Father of 
Waters) swelled to a flood, burst its banks, and rolled 
its yellow tide westward as far as the eye could see, 
the mystery man, streaked with paint and decked with 
buffalo horns and tails, danced up and down between 
the wigwams as he cried aloud: "A sign! The Fa- 
ther of Waters is angry with his children. A flood 

12 



Great Chief Chisca on the Mound. 

of pale warriors is rolling to overwhelm us from the 
east." 

What more terrifying than the prospect of an in- 
vasion of white men in a land where none but red 
men were known ? The stoutest-hearted brave, in awe 
of the dire prophecy, could only answer him with a 
dejected "Ugh;" while the weaker squaws wept and 
wailed in fear. 

About this time there was a rich king of Spain far 
to the eastward, beyond the "big water" of the Atlantic 
Ocean, who sat dissatisfied on his gilded throne be- 
cause he did not own quite all the earth. King Charles 
III. of Spain (and V. of Germany) had vast posses- 
sions in Europe, besides principalities in Mexico and 
Peru, and he owned the island of Cuba, yet he cov- 
eted the rest of the red men's country in America. 
So he ordered his skillful general, Fernando De Soto, 
to pick and choose the bravest and youngest of the 
Spanish soldiers, and go forth with them to conquer 
the great part of the North American continent, which 
in those days was called Florida. De Soto was ap- 
pointed by his sovereign to be commander of the army, 
governor of Cuba, and adelantado of Florida. There 
were wonderful stories afloat about treasures of gold 
and silver and cities paved with gold in the unknown 
Indian country. Sailors from those strange shores 
told "yarns" of marvelous birds that flitted through 
perfumed groves and of a fountain of perpetual youth 
which flowed from the earth somewhere in the land 
of Florida. The Spanish cavaliers who flocked to join 
De Soto, in shining armor, on prancing steeds, were 
of the proudest families of Spain. They were eager 
to follow him to a land where, as they were told, "the 

*3 



Old Tales Retold. 

sun ever shines and flowers ever bloom," in search of 
the treasure and the fountain. Although others of 
their countrymen had searched for them long and thor- 
oughly without success, under Ponce de Leon and 
Narvaez, yet De Soto's cavaliers counted on better 
luck. In their overconfidence many of them sold all 
their possessions for means with which to buy armor, 
horses, and accouterments of war. The highborn 
ladies of Spain also parted freely with castles, lands, 
and jewels in order either to help the men to prepare 
for the expedition or to go themselves. For they were 
as eager for the treasure as the cavaliers, and more 
keen, perhaps, than they to sip the magic water that 
had power to keep them young forever. When the 
glittering array of plumed knights marched, with ban- 
ners flying, on board ships for the voyage, their wives 
and sweethearts, for the most part, were with them. 
Amid sounds of laughter, merry songs, and bursts of 
martial music they sailed away for Cuba. 

After reaching Havana the knights and ladies spent 
a full year in the leisurely enjoyment of balls, tourna- 
ments, and bullfights, while the final preparations to 
conquer Florida were being made. At last every- 
thing was ready. Interpreters to speak the Indian lan- 
guage, bloodhounds to track the natives, and heavy 
iron chains to bind them when caught were all on 
board the ships. Then the cavaliers, about to sail for 
the shores of the mainland, bade the ladies good-by 
for a short while, saying: "Have no fear but that we 
will quickly conquer the ignorant savages. Wait here 
until we return to lead you to the fountain of youth." 

The fair senoritas smiled contentedly as they 
watched the vessels move out upon the summer sea, 

H 



Great Chief Chisca on the Mound. 

bound for the land of gold and silver, and never-end- 
ing youth. It was in May, 1539, that De Soto's fleet, 
sailing along the western coast of the peninsula of 
Florida, entered the bay of Tampa. Scarcely had 
they weighed anchor when the knights sprang ashore 
and planted a Spanish banner on the beach in token 
that they claimed the country for King Charles. Im- 
mediately a smiling party of Indians appeared. Not 
guessing the meaning of the white men's actions, they 
came forward in the most friendly way to meet them, 
making every sign of welcome to reassure the stran- 
gers. Whereupon the simple savages were seized by 
the invaders, loaded with chains, and brought before 
De Soto. The commander, through his interpreters, 
sternly ordered the unlucky captives to lead him at 
once to the gold-paved cities, and show him the way to 
the fountain of youth. This was the adelantado's first 
mistake. It changed the friendly Indians instantly 
into bitter enemies. Every red man in the forests 
learned from this and other cruelties practiced on 
them by the white army to hate the Spaniards. They 
missed no chance to do the strangers harm. By cun- 
ning design the captured guides led them astray, en- 
ticing them far from the coast into the depths of the 
forest, decoying them into miry swamps, or leading 
them into ambush, where dark warriors crouched be- 
hind rocks, trees, or shrubs, waiting to shoot poisoned 
arrows into the white host as they passed. 

On their part, De Soto's men drew the Indians into 
open battle whenever they could, and killed great num- 
bers of them with their superior European weapons; 
yet there were still red men in the woods to fight, 
still poisoned arrows to encounter, no matter which 

l 5 



Old Talcs Retold. 

way the Spaniards turned. Moreover, they did not 
know how to conduct their search through the track- 
less woods, and there was no one on whom they could 
rely to show them the right direction. Although De 
Soto tried many different guides, they all alike de- 
ceived and misled him. 

Month after month the covetous cavaliers were 
drawn by false reports through tangled thickets, across 
rushing rivers, and over steep mountains. Now far 
to the north, now east, now west, and again south 
they roamed, until their ideas of distance and direc- 
tion were in confusion. With all their marching they 
saw nothing of the fine cities, nothing of the rich 
kings they had come to this distant land to find. The 
only towns they came across were straggling villages 
of rude wigwams, and the kings, or "caciques," of 
the country were merely half-naked savages, with no 
treasures more valuable than their weapons of war, 
unless one was found possessed of a marvelously col- 
ored "match coat" of bird plumage as brilliantly va- 
riegated as mottled silk, or perhaps a royal mantle en- 
riched with pearls by the patient fingers of the squaws. 
And these their simple owners preferred to keep for 
themselves, 

They also objected to having strangers come into 
their ancient hunting grounds and claim them for an 
unknown king. Looking upon the Spaniards as rob- 
bers and tyrants, they fought them persistently all 
along their route. 

Two years of vain search and weary marching 
passed in this way, and the Spanish knights were no 
nearer than at first to the objects of their search. As 
far as ever from the fabled fountain and the treasure, 

16 



Great Chief Chisca on the Mound. 

they were still being tolled on by beguiling natives, 
who said, "Only three days' journey to the north is a 
rich king who has untold treasure," or "You have but 
to cross yonder mountain to reach a city that is paved 
with gold." Time and again they were told of a 
fountain of magic water not far away ; but after toiling 
over tiresome miles to reach the spot, they invariably 
found only an ordinary spring at their journey's end. 
Thus the adventurers were enticed month after month 
through the depths of the forest. Numbers of them 
died on the march. Of the few hundreds who were 
left at the end of two years, many were sick from 
being drenched with rain, and all were travel-worn 
and bedraggled with the mud of the quagmires through 
which they had been led. The forlorn wanderers 
would scarcely have been recognized by their friends 
as the gay cavaliers who had left Havana with the as- 
surance of victory on their lips. The most hopeful 
among them were discouraged, and they might have all 
turned back without another effort to find the treas- 
ure and the fountain had they not been so ragged and 
soiled that they were not fit to be seen by the fair ladies 
they had left behind. They were about to despair, 
when hope was once more held out to them. An In- 
dian in whom they had some confidence assured them 
that they were almost within reach of their aim. "A 
little way off toward the setting sun," said the Indian, 
"flows the Father of Waters through the land of silver 
and gold. It is the land where lives the great chief 
Chisca on the mound. Arrows cannot kill the great 
chief of the Chickasaws. He bears a charmed life. 
Chisca grows not old with years." His words made 
De Soto's heart glad. "Surely," he thought, "a chief 
2 17 



Old Tales Retold. 

who grows not old has drunk of the fountain of 
youth." 

With renewed courage he and his band turned west- 
ward, and before long they did indeed hear the roar of 
a mighty stream, and presently they saw the Father 
of Waters, the great Mississippi, which no white man 
before them had ever seen. Yelling and whooping 
with delight, the troops spurred their horses forward 
toward the swollen river, shouting as they dashed into 
the little town on its eastern bank : "Now for the land 
of gold and silver ! Now for the fountain of youth !" 

As they clattered through the village on steel-mailed 
horses, up and down the street, around and between 
the wigwams, the terror of the Chickasaws was great 
indeed. Never in all their lives had they seen a horse, 
and never before had they heard the noise of a gun. 
In their surprise they were easily taken prisoners. All 
were captured, men., women, and children, with the 
exception of a few swift runners who escaped and 
raised the alarm at the foot of the mound on which 
Chisca lived. "The palefaces have taken the village," 
they said in gasps, at which the mystery man groaned 
and cried: "Who can keep off the evil that is to be? 
It has come to pass as our fathers foretold." 

With doleful face he bore the news to Chisca. While 
he was clambering up the ladders on his unhappy er- 
rand, warriors came hastening in from all directions. 
Four thousand of them armed with bows and arrows, 
stone hatchets, and scalping knives crowded around 
the foot of the mound to protect their king, and run- 
ners were sent to distant parts to summon still other 
fighting men. At the same lime the councilors were 
assembling in the presence of King Chisca. The chief 

18 



Great Chief Chisca on the Mound. 

lay sick upon his buffalo robe ; but when he heard what 
had happened, he forgot if he were sick or well, weak 
or strong. His anger burned so hotly against the for- 
eigners who had dared to enter his town and take his 
people prisoners that he rose from bed, snatched his 
war hatchet, many a year unused, and rushed out of 
doors, calling aloud: "Come all and drive away the 
invaders." 

The councilors followed close behind, praying him 
to have patience, and begging him to listen to their 
"talk" before risking all in battle. 

"You do not know," argued the councilors, "how 
many of these strange beings are hidden in the woods. 
Their numbers may be as great as the leaves on the 
trees. Think how mysteriously they came. Others 
may follow." 

"Think also," added the mystery man, "on the an- 
cient prophecy which declares that 'The palefaces will 
not fail to destroy utterly the whole race of red men/ 
It is useless to oppose those who are destined to suc- 
ceed." 

At this advice the king's rage knew no bounds. He 
stamped his foot and exclaimed : "Weak and cowardly 
is he who fights not for his country !" 

But the cautious councilors persisted in saying: 
"These strangers are unlike other foes. Our father 
the king should wait until all his braves are gathered 
together before he gives battle to creatures who ride 
on unknown sort of beasts and who carry war clubs 
that roar like the thunder of the Great Spirit." 

At last, by dint of persuasion, the chief was led back 
to bed, but later he sent a messenger to the Spaniards, 
who said to them for the king, through an interpreter : 

*9 



Old Tales Retold. 

"Insolent intruders ! We mean to fall on you and 
destroy you utterly. You rob the poor, you oppress 
the defenseless, and have not the courage of men." 

The fury of the sick chief did not lessen with time. 
He rose from bed in a few days and tottered to the 
wall that surmounted the mound. His kinsmen were 
clinging to him, begging him not to endanger his sa- 
cred person, but already he had started down the lad- 
der. His foot was on the first round. In vain the 
women wept and lamented and the men tried to hold 
him back. He was beginning to descend, when a loud 
shout was heard from a party of Spaniards at some 
distance, who were calling and signaling to the war- 
riors around the mound. "We are messengers," they 
said, "from the great Fernando De Soto, Governor 
of Cuba and Adelantado of Florida, who wishes to 
beg pardon of King. Chisca. The Governor is sorry 
for what he has done ; and if the Chickasaws will for- 
give him, he will promise to go away and do them 
no more harm." 

Chisca was unmoved by the apology. "I want none 
of their promises !" he exclaimed angrily. "Bring me 
their heads and I will receive them joyfully." 

Hot words from the furious chief and friendly mes- 
sages from the Spanish general went back and forth 
in quick succession. The councilors again persuaded 
Chisca to his bed, while they urged him to make peace, 
saying: "If we insult De Soto, he will burn the town 
and kill the prisoners outright." The Chickasaw 
chief answered : "As for me and my people, we choose 
death before the loss of our country." 

But De Soto was one not to be refused. Plainly 
seeing that he had gained nothing by bad behavior, 

20 



Great Chief Chisca on the Mound. 

and knowing that he had not enough soldiers to fight 
the thousands of braves he saw surrounding the 
mound, he determined, if possible, to pacify the chief 
of the Chickasaws by fair words. In truth, nearly all 
of his men were sick with the fever of the country, 
and were at that moment lying stretched on the rude 
beds in the wigwams of Chisca. They were also suf- 
fering from hunger, having some time since eaten all 
the food they had found packed in a number of earth- 
en jars in the village. They had not only seized on 
what they needed to eat, but had taken possession on 
sight of all the rich furs and all the pretty mats, 
mantles, and moccasins which pleased their fancy. 

It was hard in the beginning to bring the chief on 
the mound to terms, but De Soto's flattering speeches 
and the councilors' advice finally prevailed. Chisca 
consented to let the Spaniards go in peace, but he in- 
sisted that they must first free all the prisoners and re- 
store every piece of stolen goods. He required the 
governor's messengers to promise also that not one of 
the white men should venture to climb the ladders to 
look on the great chief's face. This being agreed to, 
peace was declared. Then Chisca generously sent 
bearers carrying baskets of provisions to the famish- 
ing strangers, accompanied by a messenger, who said : 
"I am come in the name of the king to offer you all 
the comforts we can give." 

This unexpected kindness encouraged De Soto to 
hope for still other favors. He felt sure that Chisca's 
reason for hiding himself was that he was marvel- 
ously young and handsome through having used the 
water from the fountain of youth. The Spaniard be- 
lieved that he might be able to induce the Indian chief, 

21 



Old Tales Retold. 

if he could only get an interview with him, to tell where 
the fabled fountain was concealed, and to direct him 
where to find the mines of gold and silver he was 
seeking. So he began to beg to see the king. "Let me 
stand in great Chisca's presence only for a moment to 
thank him for his gifts," he pleaded, hoping to get at 
least a glimpse of the perpetually young warrior. But 
he was told that it was contrary to the custom of the 
king to receive strangers. Refusal only whetted De 
Soto's curiosity. He continued, during the six days 
in which his soldiers were getting well enough to 
move, to plead for an audience with the king. On the 
last day of the six his petition was granted. The 
guards at the mound were ordered to let the adelan- 
tado pass. With a show of barbaric ceremony he was 
escorted to the foot of the lower ladder. How quick- 
ly it was mounted! The upper ladder next trembled 
under De Soto's excited grasp as he climbed to the 
highest round. He leaped over the wall that topped 
the mound and hastened to the royal lodge, impatient 
to see for himself an example of perpetual youth and 
strength. For it was well known that Chisca was still 
a mighty man, and had he not been a famous chief long 
before the oldest warriors were infants swinging in 
papoose cases under the trees? Surely it was true 
that he had drunk of the wonderful fountain. On 
tiptoe with expectation, De Soto pushed aside the 
deer-hide door curtain, eager to behold the great chief 
on the mound, the marvel of all the ages. He lifted 
up his eyes and saw lying before him on a couch of 
wild beasts' skins only a miserable, little, old Indian, 
the most shriveled figure of a man he had ever seen 
in all his journeyings. De Soto shuddered at sight of 

22 



Great Chief Chisca on the Mound. 

the living skeleton whose flesh was quite dried up with 
age, and on whose cheeks the skin hung loose like 
wrinkled red leather. The adelantado was so shocked 
by this shrunken, mummied creature that he knew 
not what to say. He could barely stammer out thanks 
for the hospitality he had received. Then, without a 
question as to the fountain of youth, without a word 
concerning the treasures of gold and silver, he turned 
and went down the ladders to join his men who were 
waiting to resume their march. How much or how 
little he told them of his visit is not known. It is 
only certain that with them he crossed the Mississippi, 
and wandered for a year west of the river, still look- 
ing for the treasure and the fountain. 

Finding neither, he came back to the Mississippi, 
where the remnant of his army built rafts and em- 
barked with their leader to float down the stream to 
the Gulf of Mexico. Nothing had been accomplished 
by the expedition. The result of three years of toil 
and privation, sickness and death was merely an idle 
claim for Spain to all the land and the waters the 
cavaliers had crossed in their journey. At the end of 
that time their commander fell ill with the fever of the 
country. On the voyage down the Mississippi, in the 
year 1542, De Soto died, and was buried at midnight 
in the great river which he had discovered. 

Only a few of the travel-stained soldiers at last 
reached Cuba; but a handful of weary, disappointed 
cavaliers rejoined the ladies who, waiting on the is- 
land, had grown heartsick for the return of De Soto 
and his glittering band. 

More than a hundred years passed before another 
white man saw the Father of Waters. It was not un- 

2 3 



Old Tales Retold. 

til the year 1682 that the Mississippi Valley was again 
claimed for a white nation. In that year La Salle, a 
French explorer, planted the banner of France on the 
old site of Chisca and built there a cabin and a fort 
which he called Prud'homme. La Salle claimed for 
France all the land from the gulf to the sources of the 
Mississippi, the Alleghany, the Monongahela, the Ka- 
nawha, and the Tennessee, and named the country 
Louisiana, in honor of his sovereign, Louis the Four- 
teenth. 

24 



II. 

A GENTLE SAVAGE. 

A long time ago, in the days of George II., Fort 
Loudon was built by Englishmen right in the heart of 
the wild Indian country, on the Little Tennessee River. 
The garrison of two hundred soldiers and the few 
families who built cabins near by were the only white 
people who lived within many hundreds of miles in 
any direction of this fort in the untouched wilderness. 
But the strong stone walls of the fortress, surmounted 
by twelve brass cannon, gave the people a feeling of 
safety. Moreover, they had a powerful friend among 
the savages in the Cherokee vice king, Atta Culla- 
Culla, who lived in Echota, scarcely ten miles away. 
Echota, the "Sacred" or "Beloved Town" of his race, 
was also the home of Oconostota, the king of the 
Cherokees, who held sway over all the tribes living in 
the eastern part of Tennessee. 

It was the silver-tongued Atta Culla-Culla who had 
induced Oconostota to let the white people build in 
his country. At the persuasion of the vice king the 
Cherokee head men had smoked the pipe of peace in 
solemn treaty with the palefaces. This gentle-hearted 
chief desired to introduce among his own people the 
arts and industries known to the whites. He wished 
to make friends of all the English, and he was par- 
ticularly fond of Capt. John Stuart, of the British 
garrison at Fort Loudon, whom he often visited in 
the barracks. 

25 



Old Tales Retold. 

It was at the close of one of these visits that he 
lingered in the great gateway of Fort Loudon, saying 
cheerfully to his white friend: "I rejoice in the day 
of peace. Oconostota loves his white brothers. The 
red hatchet is buried between his people and the pale- 
faces." 

While he was still speaking, a troop of mounted 
warriors came galloping out of the surrounding woods 
toward the fort. The tall king Oconostota was in 
front. John Stuart saw at a glance that he was in 
a bad humor. The glitter of the chief's restless black 
eyes, the grim mouth, and the feathered head held 
high left him no room for doubt. The plumed band 
swept by the gate like a flight of arrows. Oconostota 
did not speak as he swiftly passed. He did not so 
much as nod to the English captain. To the vice 
king he merely waved a haughty signal to bid him 
follow. 

Captain Stuart looked in astonishment to his friends 
for explanation. Whereupon, Culla-Culla, gazing sin- 
cerely back into his face, simply said : "Should danger 
come near my white brother, let him call on Atta Culla- 
Culla. The heart of John Stuart is straight. I have 
eaten of my white brother's salt. I will give my life 
to save him." Without waiting for reply he sprang 
lightly to his horse and sped after the troop. 

If the white people could have followed the vice 
king to Echota and seen there the excited Indians 
awaiting him in the "Beloved Square," they would 
have been alarmed. If they could have heard the 
warriors applauding their huge king, who towered 
above them all, swearing vengeance against the white 
race, they would not have felt secure even behind the 

26 



A Gentle Savage. 



& 



solid walls of the fort ; for Indians, as they knew, were 
cunning to surprise and patient to lurk around forts 
and starve out garrisons. Had they heard Oconostota 
exclaim passionately, "The palefaces have betrayed 
us. Trusty French messengers have brought word 
that a number of our young warriors who had been 
helping the English fight the French at Fort Du- 
quesne were murdered for no cause by men of the 
nation they were helping, as they passed on their way 
home through Virginia. This calls for vengeance on 
every one in whose veins flows English blood;" and 
had the white men witnessed the war dance in front of 
the great council house of upright poles — they would 
have trembled for the safety of their families. Having 
been persuaded by secret emissaries of the French that 
the English had broken faith with them, the Cher- 
okees believed, according to the teachings of their 
heathen religion, that they owed it to the ghosts of 
their slain tribesmen to massacre all the people of the 
same nation within their reach. 

In Fort Loudon no one dreamed of what was going 
on except John Stuart. He alone suspected that dan- 
ger might be near. And not until several days had 
passed, during which he noticed that the chiefs kept 
strictly away from the fort and that the Indian boys 
and girls no longer came to play with the white chil- 
dren, did Stuart feel uneasy enough to say to his 
fellow-officers : "Mischief is brewing in Echota. Look 
out for an Indian uprising." About this time he also 
observed that his friend, Culla-Culla, was avoiding 
him, and finally when he forced a meeting the vice 
king in silence turned coldly away from him. In 
place of his old, confiding manner was a sullen dis- 

27 



Old Tales Retold. 

trust which convinced Captain Stuart that it was time 
to act. 

As quickly as they could be assembled the families 
outside were brought inside the walls, and the gates 
were shut fast. Messengers were dispatched secretly 
through the woods to Virginia and Carolina for help, 
and everything was put in a state of defense. None 
too soon. Oconostota's war club was already speed- 
ing among his tribes. Carried by a runner from 
Echota, the principal over-hill town of the Ottari 
Cherokees, it was rapidly borne southward to the Erati 
of the middle towns in the valleys between the Blue 
Ridge and the Smoky Mountains, and still on to the 
lower towns of the Chickamaugas near Lookout Moun- 
tain, summoning all the Cherokee warriors of every 
tribe to rally around their king. Presently the fort 
was encircled by concealed red men. On all sides they 
crouched behind rocks and trees waiting a chance to 
shoot the palefaces. Let the gates be opened but a 
crack, and whiz! flew an arrow straight to the chink. 
No head dared show above the walls. Food became 
scarce in the fort, yet it was not possible to send a 
man out into the forest for game, even at night. The 
people went hungry most of the time, and were saved 
from actual starvation only by the mercy of some 
squaws who crept under the walls to give the soldiers 
a quantity of beans, while they hurriedly whispered to 
them : "Do not surrender. The warriors will show no 
quarter." 

Later on, when every path was watched, the friend- 
ly squaws could find no chance to smuggle food to the 
suffering soldiers, who grew desperately impatient to 
rush outside and have an open fight. They said: "Of 

28 



A Gentle Savage. 

what use to us are guns, swords, or courage, shut up 
as we are behind walls? We cannot turn our cannon 
on redskins who are nowhere in sight." 

But Stuart and the other officers wisely opposed 
the idea of opening the gates to make a sally, saying, 
"The savages outnumber us fifty to one. They will 
push their way in and massacre the women and chil- 
dren," an argument which quieted the soldiers only 
for a short while. A few more days of deprivation 
brought them back with still others of the hunger- 
weakened men begging to be allowed to surrender. 
"Why, in surrendering now," answered the discreet 
captain, "you would throw away your last chance of 
life;" but the men retorted gloomily, "We would 
rather die under the tomahawk than see our families 
starve to death before our eyes." 

Stuart still urged patience. "The troops that are 
coining to help us are on their way," he said. "The 
messengers we sent on the first alarm to the Governors 
of Virginia and North Carolina cannot fail to bring 
relief in time. Yet week after week w r ent by, and no 
troops came. The army of savages grew larger and 
larger, and each day the supply of food in the fort was 
less and less. The starving time came at last when the 
valued horses of the officers, which were loved as 
friends, had to be killed for food. After them the 
faithful dogs which had followed their masters hun- 
dreds of miles into the wilderness were slaughtered. 
After the last lean cur had been eaten and there was 
no more meat, the people grew frantic with hunger. 
"Let us at least have a parley with the Indians," they 
demanded, "for we can hold out no longer." The 
women joined their wails to the murmurs of the men, 

29 



Old Tales Retold. 

and wrung their hands, crying: "Our little ones are 
perishing. They must have food at once." 

Such entreaties could not be withstood, and a par- 
ley with the Indians was finally agreed upon. This 
was all very well, until the question was asked : "Who 
shall go outside to treat with the Cherokees?" They 
all knew in their hearts that among them John Stuart 
alone had the tact and daring to deal successfully 
with the enemy. He was the man above all others 
whom the red men admired and feared. Quite nat- 
urally, therefore, he was unanimously chosen for the 
task which no one else cared to undertake ; and quite 
naturally, being a brave, good man, he consented to 
risk his life for his fellow-men. 

Only a few days were spent in watching his chance 
to slip through the Indian lines before he stood in the 
presence of Oconostota and his head men. The In- 
dian leaders were amazed when he, their chief enemy, 
put himself, unarmed, completely in their power. 
Touched by his trust in them, they allowed admiration 
for his courage to overcome their anger, and readily 
gave him leave to speak for his people. The fate of 
the garrison depended on what he should say. Fortu- 
nately, his well-chosen words and the captivating man- 
ner of his speech made a good impression on the sav- 
ages. Scarcely was he through talking before Oco- 
nostota, completely won over, smiled and said frankly : 
"We will let the white people go free. They may 
march out of the fort with drums and flags, each sol- 
dier carrying his gun. The rest of the people may 
take whatever baggage they choose to carry." He 
also agreed that a chosen guard of warriors should 
escort the palefaces out of the Cherokee country alon§ 

3° 



A Gentle Savage. 

the great warpath which led from Virginia to Geor- 
gia, conducting them safely to Fort Prince George, 
where there was another English garrison a few hun- 
dred miles southward. These were better terms than 
Stuart had any reason to expect. The only condition 
which Oconostota had exacted was that the twelve 
brass cannon, with all the spare arms and ammunition 
stored in Fort Loudon, should be left behind. The 
chief looked searchingly at Captain Stuart as he added 
sharply : "Take care. No cheating." 

With a light heart the peacemaker hurried back to 
tell the good news. "We have only to do faithfully 
our part," he said, "and all will be well." 

Although every one seemed satisfied with the terms 
granted, there were several soldiers in the fort who, 
thinking it manly to cheat an Indian on all occasions, 
determined secretly to defraud Oconostota in spite of 
Stuart's pledge. For this purpose they arose at mid- 
night when the garrison were asleep and took all the 
powder and balls from the magazines where they were 
stored, and buried them under the fort. Then they 
crept to the walls overlooking the river and lowered 
every spare gun and six of the cannon into the depths 
of the Little Tennessee. So quickly and quietly was 
it done that nobody waked to find out the mischief 
they were doing. 

Oconostota, rising from his camp at peep of day, 
glanced toward the fort and missed the cannon from 
its walls. Rubbing his eyes, he looked again. There 
were only six brass pieces, be they counted backward 
or forward. The chief was greatly vexed, but no 
word of displeasure passed his lips, as he silently pre- 
pared to carry out his plans for the day. Indian men 

3* 



Old Tales Retold. 

were compelled to learn self-control at an early age. 
With them a hasty word was often punished with 
blows or death. 

It was still early when the Cherokee king at the 
head of his escort entered the fort. There was a look 
on his face which Stuart did not understand. With- 
out doubt evil gleams shot from Oconostota's eyes as 
he went rummaging through armories and magazines 
to satisfy himself that the guns and ammunition as 
well as the cannon were missing. Yet he showed not 
the least bit of anger. On the contrary, he ordered 
food to be brought for the starving people. Their hun- 
ger being satisfied, he and his guards filed slowly out of 
the principal gate. Behind them followed a sorrowful- 
looking procession of emaciated men, women, and 
children, all on foot and all burdened with bundles in 
their arms and baggage on their backs. 

A tiresome march of many miles brought the garri- 
son and their escort at close of day to a broad, level 
opening in the forest, one of those treeless spaces which 
were reverenced by the Indians as the "old fields" of 
a prehistoric race which, they said, had occupied the 
country before them. Here they struck camp for the 
night. Worn out with walking, the famine-wasted 
people fell asleep almost as soon as their pallets were 
spread upon the ground. Captain Stuart alone forced 
himself to keep awake; for he had noticed suspicious 
movements among the guards, and he resolved to 
watch. For a long time he lay quite still, feigning 
sleep ; but although he once in a while peeped through 
half-closed lids, he saw only the guards lying motion- 
less as logs, rolled in their blankets, in their own camp. 
Nine o'clock came ; not an Indian had stirred. Ten 

32 



A Gentle Savage. 

o'clock ; still nothing had happened. It was not until 
midnight that Stuart, barely parting his eyelashes, saw 
Oconostota rise stealthily from his buffalo robe. Soft- 
ly the tall form glided away and melted into the shad- 
ows of the forest. Minutes passed. He did not re- 
turn. Another warrior stole into the woods. Neither 
did he come back. Then another and still another fol- 
lowed, until every Indian was gone. "They have gone 
for an army, and will come back and murder us," was 
Stuart's first thought, as he sprang to his feet to 
arouse a number of soldiers, whom he stationed some 
distance out, to watch, as a precaution against sur- 
prise. 

A night of anxiety was passed by the sentinels, who 
expected every moment to hear the Indians returning. 
At last came morning, and the camp had not been dis- 
turbed. With the first streak of dawn Captain Stuart 
drew a free breath, believing that all danger was over. 
That instant his ear caught a smothered cry. A sol- 
dier came running in at full speed. Almost out of 
breath, he said, between gasps: "They are on us — 
thousands of redskins — creeping on their hands and 
knees — through the bushes!'' 

There was hardly time to alarm the camp before 
war whoops were heard close at hand on all sides. An 
army of Indians was breaking into the opening every- 
where. They fell upon the whites while some were 
still rising from their pallets. With guns, clubs, and 
tomahawks they took swift vengeance on all for the 
injury which had been done them by a few. Within 
an hour only nine white persons were left alive. Five 
men had escaped into the woods during the first onset. 
Stuart and three others had been taken prisoners in 

3 33 



Old Tales Retold. 

the course of the fight. The rest of the people had 
all been killed. After the massacre was over, while 
the warrior who had overpowered Stuart was leading 
him away, fearful thoughts were passing through the 
unfortunate Captain's mind. He knew that his life 
had not been spared through mercy. As he was say- 
ing within himself, "I have only escaped so far to be 
tortured later at the stake," he heard a familiar voice 
at his side shouting the command, ''Let go the white 
man !" and saw Culla-Culla clutching the wrist of his 
captor. But the warrior shook off the strong grasp 
of the vice king, and, holding fast to his prize, retorted 
angrily : "He is mine. Oconostota himself cannot 
deny to the poorest Cherokee in the nation the right 
to his own prisoner." This was the beginning of a 
quarrel between the two Indians which came near 
ending in bloodshed. Culla-Culla threatened, com- 
manded, and persuaded by turns. For a long while 
the lesser warrior was obstinate and defiant, refusing 
to give up his prisoner. At last, however, he con- 
sented, after sharp bargaining, to give his captive in 
exchange for the vice king's most valued strings of 
wampum, his strong bow which had never missed its 
mark, and his handsomest clothing of dressed doeskin 
richly ornamented with quill work. 

The prisoner now belonged to Culla-Culla. What 
was to become of him, Stuart could, not guess. His 
old friend beckoned him to follow. In silence he was 
led back through the forest to Fort Loudon. Without 
a word he was conducted to a comfortable room in the 
barracks and presently refreshments were set before 
him. It was not until he had eaten of the sodden 
venison and hot corn cakes and rested his weary limbs 

34 



A Gentle Savage. 

that his old friend came to him with outstretched 
hand, saying: "My white brother lives in Atta Culla- 
Culla's heart." 

"How can that be," asked John Stuart reproach- 
fully, "when you are fresh from slaughtering my peo- 
ple?" 

The red man straightened his tall form as he replied 
with dignity : "There is no white man's blood on Atta 
Culla-Culla's hands." 

Then followed a full explanation of the peace-loving 
chief's conduct. He told at length what he had done 
to avert the war in the beginning, and ended with the 
assertion : "I spoke for peace in the council, but my 
words were swept away by the angry breath of the 
warriors like leaves blown before the storm." Stuart 
became satisfied that the vice king had had no hand 
either in the uprising or in the massacre, and in his 
turn he convinced the Cherokee that he had been in 
no wise to blame for the fraud that had been prac- 
ticed on Oconostota by the white soldiers. Once more 
the two trusted each other as friends, and the vice 
king assured Stuart that he would protect him from 
all danger. 

And safe enough he was from the common Indians, 
though they wished to kill him. For when they came 
in a crowd and beat on his door, clamoring to have him 
out, Culla-Culla had only to speak to them sternly, 
when they went away in a hurry. 

But the case was different when, a few days later, 
the Englishman was sent for to appear before Oco- 
nostota in Echota. Culla-Culla at once suspected a 
trap set for his prisoner, and Stuart, realizing that he 
was in real danger, went with a heavy heart into the 

35 



Old Tales Retold. 

presence of the king and his head men in the great 
round council house. He was surprised when Oco- 
nostota spoke gently to him, saying in a coaxing voice : 
"Friend and brother, we have spared your life. Lis- 
ten. There is a way for you to return our kindness." 
The chief looked at the prisoner narrowly, and after 
a short pause continued : "My warriors are ready to 
go on the warpath to Fort Prince George. They can 
drag the six brass cannon through the forest, but they 
do not know how to shoot the big guns." There was 
another pause and a still more searching look as he 
asked : "Will my white brother go with his red broth- 
ers and show them how to use the cannon? Listen. 
Will my white brother put on paper what I tell him to 
write, in his own name, to the commander of the fort 
to cause the garrison to surrender?" In wheedling 
tones, with many inducements offered, the shrewd chief 
further unfolded his plan to surround Fort Prince 
George, and with the aid of Stuart to capture the 
garrison. But he did not know the character of the 
man with whom he was dealing. Stuart refused to 
betray his countrymen under any circumstances. The 
chief's disappointment was so great that he cried out 
in anger: "Willingly or not, you shall go. If you 
choose not to help us, your fellow-prisoners will be 
tortured before your eyes. Before the sun has trav- 
eled his yellow road in the sky three times, we will be 
on the warpath. You have till then to choose." 

There seemed little hope left for Captain Stuart. 
There was, in his opinion, but one chance for life. 
He resolved to seek help from the gentle Culla-Culla. 
In a private interview he threw himself on the mercy 
of his friend, crying: "Help me to escape, noble vice 

36 



A Gentle Savage, 

king. Think how a man's heart must turn from be- 
traying his own people. Imagine, on the other hand, 
what would be my suffering (if I should refuse) in 
seeing the torture of my fellow-captives." 

The kind Cherokee scarcely allowed the Englishman 
to finish before he grasped his hand and said: "The 
Great Spirit made us brothers. We will escape to- 
gether. No one will dare question if I take my own 
prisoner into the forest with me to hunt. It is enough 
for me to say that there is no meat in Culla-Culla's 
lodge. Come !" 

Together the red man and the white man stole into 
the woods. They were far on their way to the settle- 
ments in Virginia before they were missed in Echota. 
For fear of pursuers they avoided the great war trail 
and took winding paths known to the wild beasts and 
to Culla-Culla. Not a leaf rustled beneath the Cher- 
okee's moccasins as he led the British officer north- 
ward through the unbroken forest, up steep mountain 
sides, and across yawning chasms. Not a twig 
snapped as he crept through thickets and canebrakes. 
Nine nights they had shaped their course by the stars 
of the Great Bear. Nine days they had crouched in 
hollow trees or hidden in caves for fear of being seen 
by chance hunters. On the tenth morning they 
reached the southern boundary of Virginia. At a 
point called Steep Rock on the Holston they had passed 
over the line which began "at a white oak stake on the 
Atlantic Coast at 39.20 degrees north and thence west 
to the South Seas" (Pacific Ocean). A little farther 
on their safety was assured when they came upon a 
camp of British soldiers — the very same Virginia 
troops who were marching (too late) to the relief 

37 



Old Tales Retold. 

of Fort Loudon. Stuart was soon in the tent of the 
commander, Colonel Byrd, telling him and his officers 
the dreadful news of the massacre. In finishing: his 
story the rescued captive said with deep emotion as he 
laid his hand on Culla-Culla's shoulder: "But for this 
gentle savage, I should not be alive to tell the tale." 

The grateful Virginians, moved by admiration for 
the untutored son of the forest, crowded about him 
and overwhelmed him with praise and thanks. He 
was escorted to Williamsburg, the capital town of the 
colony, where he was rewarded with honors and 
loaded with costly gifts by the Royal Governor before 
he was permitted to return to his native wilds. In 
memory of the kindness then shown him Atta Culla- 
Culla afterwards induced the head men in council to 
set free the remaining three white prisoners. 

38 



III. 

LOST ON THE MOUNTAIN. 

There was once a young farmer named James 
Robertson, in Wake County, North Carolina, who was 
so wise and so truthful that all who knew him trusted 
him fully and went to him for advice. The country in 
which he lived belonged at that time to King George 
III. of England, who allowed it to be tyrannically 
ruled by the Royal Governor Tryon. The downtrodden 
people hated Tryon for his cruelties, and called him 
the "Old Wolf of Carolina." He treated them so 
badly that at last they could bear it no longer. In 
their desperation a number of them said to their trusted 
neighbor, James Robertson: "Lead us away to some 
distant land, where we may hide in the forest from 
Tryon the Wolf, and live peaceably with our families." 

Pitying them, Robertson answered: "As for myself, 
I would gladly go, but I cannot find it in my heart to 
advise my neighbors, who have suffered so much al- 
ready, to risk the dangers of wild beasts and Indians in 
the wilderness." His head was bowed thoughtfully for 
a moment before he added: "Yet I verily believe that 
sooner or later tyranny will drive the people into the 
woods." 

The condition of the inhabitants throughout North 
Carolina continued to grow worse and worse. Tryon 
required them to take an oath of allegiance which did 
violence to their conscience, and sent his officers among 
them to hunt them out and offer them the choice be- 

39 



Old Tales Retold. 

tween taking the oath and being outlawed if they re- 
fused. 

During all their trials Robertson carried the trou- 
bles of his countrymen in his heart. He had not for- 
gotten their cherished desire. One winter night he 
called his neighbors and friends together in his house 
on the Yadkin River to hear his guest, the mighty 
hunter, Daniel Boone, tell of a beautiful, wild valley 
he had visited on his last expedition to the wilderness. 
He explained that he had been sent thither by Colo- 
nel Richard Henderson and other men of wealth to 
explore the unknown country west of the Unaka 
Mountains. The description he gave of that uninhab- 
ited land held his listeners spellbound. With bated 
breath they heard him tell of the wide, green Watauga 
Valley, through which flowed Watauga (the river of 
Sparkling Water) for many a mile under broad, 
spreading trees "between banks of flowers more beau- 
tiful than could be found anywhere else in the world." 

"Not a soul lives in the valley," said Boone. "The 
land cries aloud for people to come and take posses- 
sion of its forests full of singing birds and its clear 
streams which are alive with silvery fish. No one 
will disturb you or oppress you in that land which is 
cut off by the mountains from all others. There is 
no danger in it from Indians. The Six Nations on 
the north gave up their just claim to those hunting 
grounds two years ago in the treaty with the Eng- 
lish at Stanwix. The nearest Cherokee town is 
Echota, fully a hundred and fifty miles to the south. 
The whole country is uninhabited. I stayed and 
hunted there for eight months to a day, and never saw 
the face of man. If you would be free and happy, you 

40 



Lost on the Mountain. 

must up and across the mountains to the land that is 
flowing with milk and honey." 

With one accord, when Daniel Boone had ceased 
speaking, the farmers of Wake County begged their 
neighbor, James Robertson, to cross the mountains and 
spy out the land for them, saying: "We will trust 
your account of the country as if we had seen it for 
ourselves." 

They had full confidence in the man whose honesty 
of purpose, quickness of mind, and hardy, well-set 
form fitted him peculiarly to be a pioneer leader, and 
they were rejoiced when he with grave and modest 
speech accepted their trust. When Daniel Boone, the 
hunter and explorer, started on his next trip Rob- 
ertson rode beside him, intending to go with him as 
far as the Watauga Valley. 

The explorers wore hunting shirts of dark cloth, 
fringed around the bottom and belted in at the waist 
with stout leather belts in which were stuck their long 
hunting knives. The flowing fringes on their buck- 
skin leggings and the coon tails dangling at the back 
of their heads from caps of hairy coon skin gave them 
a wild and rough appearance. Across the saddle in 
front of each rider rested a long-barreled Deckerd 
rifle, and behind was strapped a folded blanket. Each 
carried a sack of parched corn and a package of salt, 
which they expected to eat with the game they should 
kill on their way. While making the journey it was 
their practice to halt at nightfall and kindle a fire by 
striking sparks from flint. A piece of punk was ig- 
nited from the sparks. Then the glowing punk was 
inclosed in a wisp of dried grass and whirled rapidly 
through the air until a blaze was started with which to 

4 1 



Old Tales Retold. 

light the fire of brushwood, and when the fire had 
burned low the travelers roasted their meat in the hot 
embers. Around the camp fire Boone, who had a 
great knack at telling stories, entertained his com- 
panion with accounts of what he had seen and done 
in the Western wilds. Among other incidents, he told 
of a close fight he had once had with a large bear on 
Watauga. He said that he had finally killed the 
beast on a beech tree, and to mark the spot he had 
carved on the tree the inscription "D. Boone Cilled 
Bar on Tree, 1760." The hunter's opportunities for 
education had been few and his spelling was bad, but 
he was a man of fine natural intelligence. His reli- 
gious training had also been limited, yet his heart was 
kind and his . soul was honest. He was often heard 
to say: "All the religion I have is to love and fear 
God, believe in Jesus Christ, do all the good I can to 
my neighbor and myself, do as little harm as I can 
help, and trust God for the rest." 

A long way from Wake County, out toward the 
west, the explorers rode many days before they 
reached the lofty Unaka Range. At last they were 
at the foot of Stone Mountain. Here they camped for 
the night, and the next day was spent in climbing to 
the top. It was sunset when Daniel Boone stood with 
Robertson on one of the highest peaks and pointed 
beyond its western slopes to the Watauga sparkling 
along its own green valley in the distance. Robert- 
son caught his breath at the beauty of the scene. "Be- 
hold," said his friend, the noted hunter waving his 
hand in the direction of a broad opening in the forest 
where countless numbers of buffaloes were grazing, 
"the settler in this country shall be richer than the 

42 



Lost on the Mountain. 

man in the Bible who owned the cattle on a thousand 
hills. His trusty rifle will give him the title to the 
herds in a thousand valleys such as the one we see. 
Look how the beasts darken the earth. They hardly 
lift their coal-black beards from the ground all day 
long munching the tall, thick grass." 

Viewing the valley, which was tinged by the last 
rays of golden May sunshine with the colors of a 
dream, James Robertson exclaimed joyfully: "Here, 
indeed, is the promised land where the oppressed peo- 
ple may hide behind a mountain wall from the op- 
pressor." 

The explorers descended the western side of the 
mountain the following day. They next went through 
a wide, dense forest with no path leading in any di- 
rection, after which they came to a swift creek (since 
called Boone's Creek) which flowed into the Watauga. 
On its banks they were astonished to find a neat little 
cabin. It was the home of William Bean, who had 
moved with his wife from Virginia to "the backwoods" 
since Boone had last been there. In this cabin the 
travelers saw the baby, Russell Bean, who was the first 
white child born in the land now called Tennessee. 
Farther down the valley they found the huts of several 
traders and trappers. It was evident that people were 
already beginning to come into the new country from 
other parts. The explorers were kindly entertained by 
William Bean and his good wife. "Remember," said 
their host, with the hospitality of a pioneer, "that I 
desire you to make my house your home so long as 
convenient to yourselves. From this moment you are 
members of my family, and on my part I shall try to 
make it agreeable." In a few days, after showing him 

43 



Old Tales Retold. 

over the country, Daniel Boone left Robertson with 
his new-found friends and went on himself, as he 
said, "in quest of the country of Kentucky," upon 
which he wished to report to Colonel Henderson. 

In the hunting lodges of Thomas Cartwright and 
John Greer Robertson also met with a warm welcome. 
He often enjoyed with them a feast of tender buffalo 
steak and mountain trout, and he was received with 
equally good will into the hut of one Honeycut, who 
said cordially to him: ''Stranger, you are welcome 
under my roof until you have a cabin of your own." 
Accordingly Robertson stayed with him several weeks, 
while Honeycut helped him to build a log dwelling 
house on the Watauga, opposite a beautiful, green 
island. The pleasant home when finished was called 
by the owner "Traveler's Rest." 

The next work was to clear a field near the house 
and plant it in corn, so that the young farmer might 
see for himself the productiveness of the land. In a 
short while the grains sprouted and peeped above the 
ground. Robertson was astonished to see how fast 
and how tall the stalks grew. In course of time so 
many ears formed upon the stalks that his wonder 
was greater still, and finally when the large, heavy 
ears ripened to hard grain he had to build several 
spacious cribs in which to harvest his abundant crop. 
James Robertson had never seen anything to equal it 
on the poor soil of Wake County. He grew impatient 
to go back and tell his neighbors of the rich land he 
had found. So he mounted his horse one fine Septem- 
ber morning and started, all alone, for North Carolina. 
As long as his route followed the windings of the 
river he could not miss the way, but when he came to 

44 



Lost on the Mountain. 

the wide woods through which no path led in any di- 
rection, he became confused. In that part of their 
journey he and Boone had neglected to blaze the trees 
along the way, and now he could not find any place 
that he remembered seeing when they were coming to 
the valley. He had only the sun and stars for guides 
to keep him in the right course. The farther he rode 
the more bewildered he became. It was almost dark 
when he drew rein, looked wearily about him, and 
said within himself : "A man might easily perish in this 
trackless wilderness. I will rest here to-night, but in 
the morning I will turn back and start anew." With 
this intention the traveler dismounted, hobbled his 
horse to keep him from straying, and turned him 
loose to graze, then ate his own supper of parched corn 
and jerked venison, and lay down on his blanket to 
rest until morning. But when he awoke at daylight 
the sky was dark with lowering gray clouds, which 
later hid the sun from sight. He could not tell east 
from west. He knew no more how to go back than 
forward. With a sigh the good man said: "Man 
proposes, but God disposes." 

For several days he wandered about, not knowing in 
what direction he traveled. One day he reached the 
base of the mountain at a point where he thought he 
might be able to ascend to the top. By toilsome 
clambering his horse carried him slowly upward. In 
his winding way he sometimes had to go along the 
slippery beds of streams that dashed through narrow 
ravines. At other times there was no way to pass 
great jutting rocks that overhung deep abysses ex- 
cept to follow the narrow trails left by wild animals. 
Days passed, and with all his climbing Robertson 

45 



Old Tales Retold. 

seemed no nearer the top than ever. After a while his 
corn gave out, and he had nothing to eat but the game 
he killed with his rifle. 

On the sixth day, to add to his misery, a cold rain 
fell in torrents. Poor Robertson was deluged with 
sheets of water that wet him to the skin through the 
heavy blanket that wrapped his shoulders. The rain 
even leaked into his powder horn and dampened the 
powder. Without dry powder his flintlock rifle would 
be worthless. Greatly downcast, he felt that "noth- 
ing worse could have happened." At that moment the 
horse stopped short on the edge of a precipice. Not a 
step farther could they go. The baffled traveler could 
only turn round and in the pelting rain seek another 
way. But try as he might, he could not surmount the 
difficulties he met. He either came to chasms too wide 
to cross, or drew up against cliffs too steep to climb. 

Discouraged at last, the poor man cried aloud: "I 
am lost on this desolate mountain." For some time 
past he had managed to live on nuts and berries and 
the roots of certain shrubs, but now he was on a bar- 
ren part of the range where nothing grew, not even 
herbage for his horse. In mercy to the famishing 
beast, he turned him loose to shift for himself, and 
continued his journey on foot. By this time Robert- 
son was very hungry. It had ceased to rain, and he 
hoped to keep off starvation by shooting a deer which 
he saw within close range of his gun. He imagined 
that he might dry his powder sufficiently to fire by 
pressing it against his bare flesh to get the warmth of 
his body. There were only a few precious grains left. 
These he carefully poured into his palm and thrust 
his hand into his bosom, pressing the powder against 

4 6 



Lost on the Mountain. 

his heart a long time, while the deer stood watching 
him curiously. At last, with trembling eagerness, he 
drew forth the powder, carefully loaded the rifle, and 
pulled the triggers. Click! click! went the hammers. 
There was no other noise. The gun had not gone off. 
Patiently it was tried all over again, and again there 
was failure. Over and over this was done, until it was 
useless to try longer. The powder was ruined. Ex- 
hausted and in despair, Robertson sank to the ground. 
Gaining courage again, he roused himself for one more 
effort, rose, and staggered forward, only to fall again. 
"It is all over," he groaned, and gave himself up to 
die. "Here am I," was his despondent thought, "about 
to perish miserably and alone — I, who had set out to 
lead others to a land of plenty ; I, who had planned to 
make 'the wilderness blossom as a rose.' ' 

Growing weaker every moment, his brain began to 
reel, and he was tortured by thirst to such a degree 
that he could not think clearly. He said to himself, 
"It is only the delirium of fever," when presently the 
musical blast of a horn echoing among the crags came 
to his ears. Then followed the baying of dogs, which 
sounded more real, and the tramp of horses coming 
unmistakably nearer and nearer. Louder and clearer 
grew the sounds, until he both heard and saw two 
huntsmen emerging from behind a large bowlder. Rob- 
ertson was too weak to call aloud. Though he made 
the effort, his whispered cry for help was not heard. 
The men were passing him by, when one of them, who, 
as it chanced, was John Greer, happened to turn aside, 
and stumbled over Robertson's almost lifeless body. 
"Ah !" he exclaimed in amazement, "here is the 
stranger from North Carolina, dead." 

47 



Old Tales Retold. 

But when he and his companion, Thomas Cartwright, 
got down and examined closely they found signs of 
life in the thin, wasted body. Very tenderly the 
rough backwoodsmen held him sitting upright in their 
arms, very gently they pressed morsels of food between 
his lips and gave him sparingly of water until he 
regained a little strength. After a while they placed 
him on one of their horses and journeyed with him 
across the mountain, not leaving him until they had 
carried him almost all the way to his North Carolina 
home. Ten years later it chanced that the three men 
met again and became fast friends. 

When James Robertson reached his farmhouse in 
Wake County he looked like the ghost of his former 
self. Seeing his forlorn appearance, his neighbors 
said among themselves : "Surely he found only a land of 
famine beyond the mountains." They could hardly be- 
lieve, even from his truthful lips, that the Watauga 
Valley was a "paradise on earth" before he explained 
that he had wandered, starving, fourteen days on the 
mountain after he had left the fertile valley. But 
when they were made to understand how bountiful 
was the country and were told that the Governor of 
Virginia, claiming the land for Virginia, offered to 
give a grant of four hundred acres to every man who 
would move there and build a home, they were eager 
to move to the valley at once. In ending his talk to 
them Robertson said: "My life has been spared for a 
special purpose. An all-wise Providence sent Cart- 
wright and Greer to preserve my life for the sake of 
those whom it is intended I shall lead from bondage 
into freedom." Now the farmers of Wake County de- 
sired liberty above all things. A longing to cross the 

4 8 



Lost on the Mountain. 

mountains and be free took hold of them, a desire 
which grew stronger with each unjust act of Governor 
Tryon, until at last, as Robertson had foretold, tyranny 
drove the people into the woods. They with others 
had before this risen in arms against the colonial gov- 
ernment and had fought the battle of the Alamance 
(which was in reality the first battle in the struggle 
for American independence), but had been defeated in 
the fight. 

So it came about that in the spring of 1771 sixteen 
families, consisting of eighty men, women, and chil- 
dren, crossed the Unakas, fleeing from the tyranny of 
George III. and his creature, Governor Tryon. The 
journey was made on horseback, as no wheeled vehicle 
could climb the rough mountains. At the heels of 
the horses trotted the faithful dogs, and in the rear of 
the procession came the milch cows driven by the older 
children, many of whom trudged on foot all the way 
to their new home. At the head of the party rode 
James Robertson beside his young wife, Charlotte 
Reeves, who held their infant son in her arms. Others 
of the women carried a child behind as well as a babe 
in the lap. Few articles of comfort, and no luxuries, 
could be transported over the rugged trail. The nec- 
essary clothing, bedding, and kitchen utensils were 
strapped on pack horses. All else was left behind. 
The pioneers bade good-by at once to oppression and 
to the conveniences of civilized life. On arriving at 
their destination the men built comfortable houses of 
logs. While waiting for these many of the immi- 
grants were sheltered in Traveler's Rest. Then, and 
for many years afterwards, it was the usual stopping 
place for all newcomers into the Watauga settlement. 

4 49 



Old Tales Retold. 

Under its ample roof James Robertson and his wife 
kept open house for any who chose to enter. In win- 
ter their hearth and in summer their broad porch was 
the gathering place of the community. The evenings 
were often spent by Robertson in reading aloud to the 
people from the Bible. That and a few other books, 
such as "Pilgrim's Progress" and Foxe's "Book of 
Martyrs/' which had been brought across the moun- 
tains along with the necessities of life, were greatly 
prized; but Robertson's favorite was the Bible, from 
which it was his habit to quote frequently. For sev- 
eral years the pioneer families lived their simple lives 
shut off from the outside world, happy in the thought 
that they were free from the persecutions of Tryon, 
and at ease in the belief that they were safe from trou- 
ble with Indians. With the latter they were on the 
most friendly terms. It was common for the Cherokee 
braves to visit them through friendly curiosity to see 
their way of living, but none came to do them harm. 
Their settlement had been made, as they believed, north 
of the line running "from the Atlantic Ocean west to 
the South Seas," in latitude 36.30, which the Treaty of 
Stanwix had fixed as the just boundary between the 
white people and the Cherokee Nation, and there was 
no question in dispute between them at that time. 

The emigration of these lovers of freedom to the 
Watauga Valley was the beginning of the free State 
of Tennessee. As William E. Gladstone has said: 
"The greatest calamity that can befall a State is for 
its people to forget its origin." It is well, therefore, 
to observe some of the traits which distinguished the 
first settlers west of the Unakas. To begin with, they 
were truly democratic. Among them there was no 

50 



Lost on the Mountain. 

separation of caste or class. On the Watauga all cit- 
izens were equal. A man or woman was esteemed 
according to his or her virtues. Being a quiet, home- 
loving people, their community was almost free from 
crime. A moral offender in the early days of the 
West was "hated from society." A bad man could 
not stay among people given over to honesty and fair 
dealing. It was not until some years later, when evil- 
doers came among them in larger numbers, that they 
found need of laws to punish vice. In their social 
life the Wataugans were gay and light of heart, and 
passed much of their leisure time in cheerful amuse- 
ments. Such were the founders of the commonwealth 
of Tennessee. 

51 



IV. 

THE INTERRUPTED FEAST. 

At last the chief of all the Cherokees had fallen out 
with the white people who lived in the beautiful 
Watauga Valley. One day, with six hundred of his 
warriors, he came galloping into the settlement to talk 
over the matter in dispute between them. The eagle 
feathers that stood straight up around the heads of the 
tall Indians made them look still taller, and long, furry 
tails of animals dangling down their backs gave them 
the appearance of wild beasts. Their leader was a 
man of large frame, who was taller than all the rest. 
His bare breast equally with his face was seamed with 
scars, and he was so crippled from other wounds he 
had received in battle that the Watauga boys called 
him "Old Hop" (behind his back, mind you), though 
his real name was Oconostota, the king of the Cher- 
okees. 

When the men of Watauga saw the warriors coming 
they went out to meet them under the shade of the 
great oaks in the edge of the Watauga Old Fields, 
where Elizabethton, in Carter County, was afterwards 
built. 

Having dismounted, the savage king limped for- 
ward and said gruffly: "The white people must leave 
this valley. Time out of mind it has belonged to the 
Men of Fire.* The Cherokees have built no wigwams 

*The meaning of the word "Cherokee" in English is "Men 
of Fire." 

5 2 



The Interrupted Feast. 

in the valley, yet the land is ours, as all the world 
knows." 

Then a chief named "The Raven," because of his 
keen scent for war, said : "These were the ancient 
hunting grounds of our forefathers. Dear to us are 
the waters of the Watauga, Hogohogee [Holston], 
Pellissippe [Clinch], Aquiqua [French Broad], and 
the wide Kalamuchee [Tennessee]. Their valleys are 
ours, and we do not mean to give them up." 

There was a great deal more talking, and the white 
people were troubled what to say in reply, until James 
Robertson, the head man of Watauga, spoke out for 
them and said: "We moved to this valley innocently. 
We were told that it had been given to Virginia by 
the Six Nations at the Treaty of Stanwix. In truth 
we thought we were settling on Virginia soil until 
Colonel John Donaldson recently surveyed the line 
w T hich divides Virginia from the Cherokee hunting 
grounds, and we learned that we are south of the line 
instead of north of it, as we had supposed. But now 
we do not claim the land. We only ask you to lease 
it to us for a few years, so that we may enjoy for a 
while the homes we have built and cultivate the fields 
we have fenced." 

Oconostota answered in a surly tone, saying : "If we 
let you rob us of these lands to-day, you will ask for 
more next year, still more the next, and so on year 
after year till you drive us into the ocean of the setting 
sun. White men are greedy for the red man's land. 
Whole nations have melted away in their presence like 
balls of snow before the sun, and scarcely left their 
names behind." 

Robertson wisely kept his temper, and said per- 

53 



Old Tales Retold. 

suasively: "We do not wish to take your possessions 
without paying for them. Some bad white men sent 
by the British king have been telling you false tales 
about us. We are your friends. We wish to deal 
fairly. Lease the valley to us for ten years, and we 
will pay you down for it on the spot all the colored 
glass beads you want, a great quantity of fishhooks, 
a number of bales of scarlet cloth, and enough gun- 
powder to satisfy you." 

By this proposition the Wataugans were offering to 
pay a hundred per cent higher for a lease of their 
lands than the price at which William Penn had bought 
Pennsylvania. Robertson paused between the mention 
of one article and the next, and at each pause the 
chieftain's face grew brighter; seeing which, Atta 
Culla-Culla, the vice king of the Cherokees, who was 
friendly to the settlers, hastened to say to Oconostota : 
"The Wataugans are our brothers. Our braves love 
to visit them. No hungry Indian has ever been re- 
fused food in this valley, nor the cold and weary hunter 
denied a shelter.'' Glancing at the king for assent, he 
then turned to the white people and said : "To-day we 
freely surrender a part of our lands to our white broth- 
ers, but only for a term of eight years. My speech is 
at an end. It is the voice of the Cherokee Nation." 

With this concession the Wataugans were forced to 
be satisfied. In token of good faith Culla-Culla ad- 
vanced to Robertson's side and placed a string of wam- 
pum in his hand. Then the peace pipe, four feet long, 
sheathed in a speckled snake skin, was brought to 
Oconostota, who smoked a few whiffs, puffing the 
smoke first toward the sun, next to the four points of 
the compass, and then over the breast of James Rob- 

54 



The Interrupted Feast. 

ertson before handing it to him to be smoked and 
passed on in turn by him and all the leading white men 
and Indian chiefs present. The treaty was celebrated 
by a great feast, and whole oxen were barbecued by 
the negro cooks. There was famous racing and 
dancing and ball-playing in the grassy "old fields." 
The merrymaking was kept up for several days, and 
all the while the pioneer fiddlers made lively music 
which mingled with the noise of the little Indian drums. 
Every one seemed to think that there would never 
be any more trouble in the valley, except Oconostota, 
who said grimly to one of the Wataugans : "Brother, 
we have given you a fine land, but I believe you will 
have trouble in settling it." 

Altogether the feast was progressing happily. Not 
an offensive word had been said, not an unkind glance 
given, until a rowdy named Crabtree, who had ridden 
down from the Wolf Hills of Virginia to see the sports, 
wantonly picked a quarrel with a bright young Cher- 
okee chief who was a general favorite with the white 
people. Everywhere else on the grounds the settlers 
were in the highest spirits, pleased that they had been 
able so far to keep the Indians in a good humor. In 
every place the white men and the red were innocently 
enjoying themselves together, when bang! went a rifle 
from the edge of the forest that bordered the "old 
fields." For a moment Indians and whites stood still. 
Then, with one accord, all rushed to the spot where 
lay the harmless young chief stretched dead upon the 
ground. His murderer, Crabtree, had escaped into the 
woods. The Wataugans were distressed at the cruel 
deed. As to the Cherokees, they were too angry to 
speak. Oconostota and his warriors, all silent and 

55 



Old Talcs Retold. 

sullen, stood looking on the dead Indian. Words were 
not needed to tell that they were deeply offended. 
Their faces said plainly enough what was in their 
thoughts : "We trusted these Watauga people. We 
traded with them and ate of their feast; and because 
our weapons were left behind in our wigwams on the 
Tellico and the Hiwassee, they have dared to insult us." 

The Cherokees believed that unless they avenged 
the death of one of their tribe they would themselves 
forfeit the right to enter the happy hunting grounds 
after death. Robertson knew that their first idea 
would be to retaliate. His thick crown of dark hair 
was bent low while he pondered what to say to appease 
the savages. Then his candid blue eyes were lifted ap- 
pealingly to Oconostota's face as he tried to explain 
that his people had nothing to do with the murder. 
But the Cherokee leader turned a deaf ear to all apol- 
ogies. Neither he nor his followers made any reply 
to Robertson's explanations. Frowning and sulking, 
the six hundred warriors mounted in haste, taking care, 
however, to gather up every bale of red calico, every 
strand of Stroud beads, and all the other goods and 
ammunition they had gained in the trade before they 
left in a huff. Without a gesture of farewell, the an- 
gry host filed into a buffalo path that led to the Great 
War Trail, and away they galloped, as hard as they 
could go, southward to the Cherokee over-hill towns. 

"What shall we do?" asked the people in dismay as 
they heard the last hoof beat die away in the distance. 
"The savages have gone to arm themselves. They 
will return in great numbers and murder us outright. 
James Robertson's only answer was to say calmly: 

56 



The Interrupted Feast. 

"God is on our side. We will not fear. Mightier is 
he that is for us than all who can come against us." 

But the settlers refused to be comforted. In their 
fear and excitement all sorts of plans for safety were 
made. Some were for moving at once to Virginia. 
Others suggested the building of a log fort at once in 
Watauga. In the midst of these discussions James 
Robertson surprised them all by saying : "I will go 
myself to Echota, the sacred or beloved town of the 
Cherokees, and treat for peace." At which there was 
great rejoicing among the people, who believed that he 
could do whatever he undertook. But the good man's 
best friends were shocked at his resolve. "It is mad- 
ness !" they cried. "Echota is one hundred and fifty 
miles away. You will surely never come out of the 
town alive, even if you are not murdered in going 
through the forest and reach Echota in safety." 

Robertson, who had made up his mind to go, an- 
swered firmly : "Peril to my one life is nothing com- 
pared to the danger to five hundred men, women, and 
children." 

In a few days, while John Sevier and others had set 
to work to build a fort, Robertson was off on the 
great trail, traveling southward. Many tracks of un- 
shod horses and prints of moccasined feet showed 
where the angry warriors had lately passed along. 
While following their trail he thought how easily an 
enemy lurking in the bushes might send an arrow 
through his heart. That moment he heard hoof beats 
on the soft path ahead. Riding cautiously to the next 
turn in the road, he halted, for there rode a tall, wiry- 
looking horseman in Indian costume, strong and well- 
armed, coming toward him. The stranger stopped 

57 



Old Tales Retold. 

short, and the two glared at each other with hands on 
their guns. Then the tall, wiry man galloped for- 
ward as with a soft laugh he exclaimed: ''The head 
man of Watauga, by all that's lucky !" The weather- 
beaten, sunburned white man Robertson had mistaken 
for an Indian was his good friend, Isaac Thomas, the 
trader who carried skins and merchandise to and fro 
between the Indian towns and Williamsburg, Va. 

"I bear a message to you from the niece of the vice 
king, Atta Culla-Culla, who is the beloved woman of 
the Cherokees," said the trader. Explaining further, 
he said that Nancy Ward, the beloved or beautiful 
woman, was the Cherokee prophetess, through whose 
lips the nation believed their guardian spirit spoke to 
them. He described her as a handsome, half-breed 
Indian princess, about thirty-five years of age, with a 
majestic appearance and great benevolence of heart. 
"When the chiefs came back from Watauga Old Fields 
bent on war," proceeded the trader, "the beloved wom- 
an spoke for peace. But in their fury the warriors 
refused to obey the Voice. Then the prophetess sent 
me to you, saying: 'Go warn the head men of Wa- 
tauga. The braves will soon be on the warpath to 
slay all who are in their way.' ' Having delivered this 
message, Isaac Thomas begged Robertson to turn 
round and go back; "for," said he, "you will be 
killed on sight." 

The brave pioneer, unmoved by this appeal, was as 
determined as ever to see Oconostota and try to ap- 
pease his anger. "Then I will go with you," said 
Thomas, "for without me you will surely be killed." 
Assuring Robertson that a trader was a person of 
importance among Indians, he said: "I live safely in 

58 



The Interrupted Feast. 

Echota even in time of war. No Cherokee would be 
foolish enough to harm the man who brings them all 
kinds of merchandise in exchange for peltries." 

As they journeyed together, Isaac Thomas informed 
Robertson of many interesting facts concerning the 
Cherokees and their customs which it was well for him 
to know. Among other things, he said that in the 
hands of the half-breed princess-prophet Nancy Ward 
lay the power of life or death over prisoners or con- 
demned criminals. One evening at nightfall the trav- 
elers saw the fires of Echota, far off, scattered along 
both banks of the Little Tennessee River. A little 
nearer, and they met an Indian whom Thomas sent 
ahead as a messenger to ask permission for Robertson 
to enter the ''Sacred Town." Here they waited until 
the messenger returned, saying : "Oconostota is willing 
for the head man of Watauga to come in." 

James Robertson, sitting in the doorway of the 
trader's cabin next morning, counted eleven hundred 
chiefs under the oaks and elms that shaded the long 
street. War paint of blue, black, and yellow streaked 
the vermilion dye on their faces, newly sharpened 
knives were in their belts, and quivers full of arrows 
hung at their backs, showing that they were ready to 
start on the warpath. 

About noon the white man was ordered to appear in 
the council house. With many misgivings Isaac 
Thomas watched him go along the avenue to meet his 
enemies alone. As for James Robertson, he was only 
thinking of what he should say to secure peace for 
his people. Without a tremor he lifted the buffalo 
hide which curtained the doorway. Letting it fall be- 
hind him, he stood in the great, gloomy round building. 

59 



Old Tales Retold. 

There were no windows in the walls ; there was merely 
a hole in the center of the roof to show him where the 
king sat on a raised seat near the middle of the apart- 
ment. The war robe of buff-colored buffalo skin, em- 
broidered with brightly dyed porcupine quills, reached 
to Oconostota's feet. Wisps of red horsehair were 
tied above his elbows, and tails of small animals were 
at the heels of his moccasins. Beside him sat the be- 
loved woman and Culla-Culla, the vice king, sur- 
rounded by a few chosen chiefs. A dim circle of less 
noted warriors could be seen in the dusky outskirts of 
the room, on low benches around the walls. The man 
from Watauga looked on them steadfastly without a 
sign of fear. 

For a while there was dead silence. Without speak- 
ing a word, the lesser chiefs came gliding from the 
outer circle and crowded about the visitor. They 
peeped curiously into his face, as if to read the 
thoughts of the brave soul. He showed not a trace 
of alarm, nor could they find out the secret of his 
courage. Robertson waited calmly until the baffled 
chiefs had all gone back to their places. Then he said 
quietly: "The people of Watauga are sorry for what 
has happened. They view the horrid deed with keen- 
est indignation. Your warrior was not killed by one 
of our people. The murderer has escaped, but the men 
of Watauga will surely catch him and punish him as 
he deserves." 

This and much more Robertson said in his quiet, 
persuasive voice, while the warriors listened silently. 
To them it was a strange thing that he was saying, 
for Indians never punished members of their tribe who 
committed outrages on whites. At first they heard 

60 



The Interrupted Feast. 

him with incredulous lines around their set lips, but 
the more he talked the gentler their faces grew, until 
at last many of them were actually smiling, and the 
beloved woman ventured to say softly : "The Good 
Spirit is on our white brother's side."' 

Then Oconostota also began to relent. Appealing 
to his braves, he said : "What say my brothers ; are 
not the white man's words good?" Lifting their 
voices as if under the influence of a spell, all the braves 
answered at once : "They are good." 

Only a few moments before and the savages had 
been ready to tear Robertson to pieces where he stood, 
but now they flocked around him and begged him to 
stay a few days in Echota and make them a friendly 
visit. The children of the forest had actually fallen 
in love with the civilized man from the settlement. 
Oconostota, no less than the others, felt the charm of 
Robertson's manner, and condescended to say of him: 
"He has winning ways, and tells no lies." 

Advised by Isaac Thomas, James Robertson agreed 
to remain a few days longer in Echota. He was 
treated with distinction by Oconostota, and secured 
from the chief a confirmation of the lease of eight 
years to the Watauga lands. During his stay with the 
Cherokees their visitor learned to respect them for 
their rectitude in regard to social and moral conduct, 
and to like them as a cheerful, happy people when not 
engaged in w T ar. 

On the other hand, in his interviews with the prin- 
cess-prophetess, Nancy Ward, he impressed her that 
he belonged to a superior race of beings who were 
under the protection of the "Great Good Spirit," and 
so fully won her confidence that she made him a sol- 

61 



Old Tales Retold. 

emn promise always in the future to befriend him and 
his people. Having thus saved the Watauga settle- 
ment from attack and secured its safety for some time 
to come, the good head man returned to his people in 
peace. 

62 



V. 
A SNAKE IN THE GRASS. 

It was a dark night in July, 1776. The inhabitants 
of the Indian village on the Little Tennessee River 
were sound asleep. There was no sign of any one 
stirring. The one straggling street of Echota was 
absolutely quiet until near midnight, when a muffled 
figure stole cautiously out of a wigwam unlike the rest, 
built of upright poles curiously wound with skins of 
wild beasts. It was the mystery lodge of the beloved 
woman, the princess-prophetess of the Cherokees. The 
silent form, blanketed from head to foot, paused out- 
side the curious lodge and stood for a moment be- 
side the great totem pole listening attentively. Not 
the slightest noise could be heard up and down the 
double row of wigwams. Again the figure moved; 
this time gliding swiftly through the blackness of the 
night straight to the cabin of Isaac Thomas, the white 
trader who brought merchandise to the Indians from 
Williamsburg, Va., and carried back peltries en his 
pack horses to the Virginia markets. There was a 
gentle tap upon his door. Though the sound was 
faint and he was asleep, the alert frontiersman was 
aroused. Instantly he was on his feet asking: "Who 
is there?" 

He could scarcely hear the whispered answer, "It is 
the white man's friend;" yet he knew the voice. It 
was his faithful friend, Nancy Ward. He hastened 

63 



Old Tales Retold. 

to unlatch the door, divining at once that some danger 
to the white settlements had brought her to him at 
that hour; for the beloved woman had never yet 
broken her promise to befriend the white people who 
lived west of the Unaka Mountains — a promise she 
had made to James Robertson, and had kept for his 
sake and the sake of John Sevier, both of whom she 
respected and admired above all other men. Isaac 
Thomas was not surprised, then, to hear her say: "I 
bring my white brother evil news. The braves are pre- 
paring to go on the warpath. The women are beating 
corn into meal for the march. The warriors intend to 
kill every white man, woman, and child in their path. 
They will destroy every house, burn all the corn, carry 
off negroes and horses, and kill all the cattle on the 
Watauga and Nollichucky Rivers and in Carter's Val- 
ley." The prophetess stopped to listen, with her finger 
on her lip, before she ventured to continue: "The Ra- 
ven is bringing his Ayrati braves from the middle 
towns and Dragging Canoe is on the way with his 
Chickamaugas from the lower towns of the nation." 

This was startling news, for the trader did not doubt 
that the prophetess was correctly informed. She was 
always admitted to the secret councils of the chiefs of 
the tribe, and nothing was done without her knowl- 
edge. Yet, Thomas knew of no cause for anger be- 
tween the Cherokees and the whites who lived west of 
the mountains. The Wataugans, especially, had never 
been known to wrong an Indian. Oconostota himself 
had never accused James Robertson or John Sevier of 
cheating. The trader could not understand the reason 
for these sudden preparations for war until the be- 
loved woman informed him that King George's In- 

6 4 



A Snake in the Grass. 

dian agent, Alexander Cameron, was in Echota in 
secret consultation with the principal chiefs, trying to 
stir up the savages against the frontier people, who 
had taken sides against England in the war for inde- 
pendence. 

On questioning the prophetess more closely, Thom- 
as learned that the plan of the warriors was to march 
out of Echota all together, and go for some distance 
along the great war trail which led from the lower 
Indian towns up through what we now call East Ten- 
nessee to Virginia. Then they were to separate into 
three divisions, to spread out like a fan in several di- 
rections, and winnow the whole country. One division 
was to be led by the Raven, another by Dragging Ca- 
noe, and still another by Oconostota himself, the king 
of all the Cherokees. The army under Oconostota was 
selected to storm Fort Lee, on the Watauga, which 
had been built by John Sevier, and which was com- 
manded by James Robertson. 

''Tell my white brothers to be vigilant," said the 
beloved woman. "Go warn James Robertson, the 
head man of Watauga. Tell him to be well prepared. 
The bolt will fall soon, and at midnight. Tell him 
that Oconostota's army will come secretly. It will 
crawl like a snake in the grass, and suddenly it will 
strike." 

Isaac Thomas realized that no time was to be lost. 
Promising to start on his mission as soon as he could 
get away unobserved, he begged the prophetess to 
keep watch in the meantime and listen closely. "Re- 
port to me every word you hear," he said, "before I 
go to warn the head man of Watauga." He made an 
excuse to leave the Indian country at once, and was 
5 65 



Old Tales Retold. 

soon among his white friends. The news he brought 
aroused the whole country. The various settlements 
being promptly notified, the leaders met together to 
plan their defense. Hurried preparations were made 
to meet the Indians in battle. Men rode in haste in 
every direction to warn farmers who were scattered 
along the rivers and in Carter's Valley. As soon as 
the danger was known, many families took their cattle 
and their servants and fled along the great trail up 
to their kindred and friends in Southern Virginia. 
Others sought refuge in the stockades, rude fortresses 
that had been built here and there by the pioneers of 
East Tennessee as a protection against Indian raids. 
The stockade or log fort in Watauga, called Fort Lee, 
was soon full to overflowing with women, children, 
and household goods, whereas there were only about 
forty soldiers to defend the place. Its heavy double 
gates were kept chained and barred day and night, and 
the people stayed strictly inside for fear of an attack. 
They could not feel safe elsewhere than behind the 
tall picket fences which, by connecting a number of 
log houses in the form of a hollow square, formed the 
walls of the fort. 

No man was more earnest in urging the people to 
seek shelter in the stockade than Captain William 
Bean, the same William Bean who had been the ear- 
liest settler in Watauga. He went everywhere advis- 
ing heads of families to lose no time in getting their 
children within the palisades ; and he had not much 
trouble in persuading them, except in the case of his 
own wife. All seemed eager to have the protection 
of the fort except Mrs. Bean. She could not be in- 
duced to leave her home. The good woman saw no 

66 



A Snake in the Grass, 

necessity for such a move. In the kindness of her 
heart, Mrs. Bean thought all the world as just as her- 
self. She refused to believe that even an Indian would 
do her an unprovoked injury. They had many times 
been to her house and tasted of her nice butter and 
cheese, for which she was famous. She had always 
been the wayfarer's friend. Neither white man nor 
red had ever been turned away hungry from her door. 
It was hard for her to realize that any one would 
wish to harm her. So the kind soul made up her 
mind to stay in her house and take care of her simple 
possessions. She saw terrified people pass her gate 
from day to day leading pack horses piled with a con- 
fusion of household goods, and driving their cattle 
before them, yet she was unmoved in her resolution to 
stay at home. Quite undisturbed, she calmly at- 
tended, as usual, to her cows and poultry while others 
were crowding into the fort. 

In the meantime, the Indian army was crawling like 
a snake in the grass toward Watauga, though it was 
creeping very, very slowly. Many days of suspense 
passed over the heads of the people in the fort. Some 
began to doubt if the savages were coming at all. 
One day the good news reached Fort Lee that a battle 
had been fought between the Indians under Dragging 
Canoe and the white settlers at a place called Island 
Flats, in which the savages had been completely routed. 
It was now thought that all danger was over, espe- 
cially as the Chickamauga chief, who was noted for 
ferocity, had been severely wounded in the fight. On 
hearing of the success of the whites, John Sevier ex- 
claimed exultantly, "A great day's work in the woods !" 
and his soldiers joined in demonstrations of joy. 

6 7 



Old Tales Retold. 

At that moment Oconostota's warriors from the 
over-hill towns were moving northward. Trooping 
along the war trail, they were killing and burning as 
they went. Directly in their path lay William Bean's 
cabin. Inside was Mrs. Bean attending to her domes- 
tic duties. A band of Indian scouts in advance of the 
army, looking in, saw her, and walked through the 
open doorway. Mrs. Bean felt no fear at finding 
herself suddenly surrounded by savages. It was the 
custom of the red men, as she knew, to enter the set- 
tlers' homes without knocking, whenever it pleased 
them to do so. She was not at all alarmed when they 
first crowded about ; but when her hands were roughly 
jerked backward and tied behind her with a stout leath- 
er thong, the unhappy creature fully realized her dan- 
ger. Placed between two warriors, she was dragged 
back to the Indian camp and brought before Oco- 
nostota. The chief scowled forbiddingly at the pris- 
oner. "O, why do you mistreat me?" she cried pit- 
eously; "have I not often fed your famished war- 
riors and given them shelter from the storm?" A 
speech which only angered an Indian standing near 
the king, who leveled his gun and rushed toward her 
to fire. But Oconostota, wishing to question the cap- 
tive, stepped between them and with his sinewy arm 
threw up the warrior's weapon. Through his inter- 
preter the Cherokee king then asked Mrs. Bean the 
question : "How many forts have the white people ?" 

"More than can be remembered," was the quick- 
witted reply. 

"How many soldiers are in each of them ?" 

"Their number is as the number of the leaves of the 
trees," answered Mrs. Bean. 

63 



A Snake in the Grass. 

"Can they be starved out ?" she was asked next. 

"They have corn enough to last a long time," she 
said; and added significantly, "Four moons ago Cap- 
tain Sevier received a large supply of ammunition from 
Virginia." 

Something in the brave woman's answers, or else 
his own plans, determined Oconostota not to have Mrs. 
Bean killed at once. He preferred to take her to 
Echota and have her teach the squaws how to make 
butter and cheese and other good things to eat. With 
this intention the prisoner was kept unharmed, though 
she was strictly guarded in camp while the army 
pushed on to attack Fort Lee. On nearing the place 
the army paused. The serpent was now coiling ready 
to strike. 

At this critical time the white people, grown careless 
with long waiting, were somewhat off their guard. 
Quite early the next morning a party of women and 
maidens ventured outside the walls to the milking 
place. Among them was Catherine Sherrill, a beau- 
tiful girl, who had been tempted by the wild flowers 
to go farther into the woods than the rest. All were 
care-free and happy in breathing the morning air, 
without a thought of danger near, until a loud war- 
whoop resounded through the forest. At once they 
knew that Oconostota's army was upon them. With 
startled screams the women rushed back into the fort 
and pulled the gates to behind them. Bars and chains 
quickly made them secure. All were safe inside — all 
but one. Catherine Sherrill had been left behind. At 
a glance she saw that several Indians were already 
between her and the closed gates. Quick as thought 
she darted aside toward another part of the fort. Un- 

6 9 



Old Tales Retold. 

fortunately, the savages spied her and gave chase. 
Hundreds of warriors in the edge of the woods were 
yelling as they watched the race. Terror lent wings 
to Catherine's nimble feet. She must depend for safe- 
ty upon her speed alone. The forty defenders of the 
fort were too few to risk a sally in her favor, though 
they looked on anxiously while the girl ran for her 
life, until finally John Sevier, unable longer to with- 
stand his impulse, sprang to the gate. Drawing his 
sword, he called to his comrades: "Out to the rescue. 
Follow me !" 

A moment more and the daring men would have 
dashed through the gates in face of the great number 
of Indians to save the young woman, had not James 
Robertson, the cautious commander, placed a hand 
upon the rash young officer's sword arm, crying: 
"Stop ! The lives of all must not be risked for the 
sake of one." Turning to the men, he sternly ordered 
them : "Back to the portholes." 

In obedience to Robertson's wise commands the gar- 
rison was forced to be inactive witnesses of Catherine 
Sherrill's danger. Now they see her near to the 
stockade, with the Indians pursuing close behind. 
Now their hearts quicken "as she touches the palisades 
and begins to clamber up the tall pickets. The athletic 
savages are making long strides to reach the girl. 
One is almost close enough to grasp her skirts as she 
climbs. The people in the fort hold their breath until, 
with the lightness of a fawn, she bounds over the 
sharp-pointed top and falls on the inner side into the 
extended arms of John Sevier. "My brave girl ! My 
bonny Kate !" he impulsively cries, while the others 
shout aloud their delight and applause. They possi- 

70 



A Snake in the Grass. 

bly saw in their mind's eye the wedding that was to 
take place later between the gallant soldier and his 
"Bonny Kate." 

After this the battle began in earnest. Arrows rat- 
tled like hail upon the roof. Bullets rained around 
the portholes. Hundreds of savages were swarming 
around the stockade on all sides at once, hoping to 
find some weak point in the defense. But the thick- 
ness of the walls, the height of the palisades, and 
Robertson's watchful eyes served to keep Oconostota's 
warriors out, no matter where or how they attacked 
Fort Lee. Again and again, for six successive days, 
the Cherokees tried to enter. Still the fort held out, 
and still, owing to Robertson's prudent instructions 
to his followers, not a white person had been hurt. 
"Reserve your fire," he repeatedly said. "Don't waste 
your powder. Wait till you are sure of your man 
each time before you shoot." By this means it hap- 
pened that no rifle was fired from the ports without 
either wounding or killing one of the assailants. 

The Indians were at last forced to take to the timber 
for safety. From their sheltered position they pelted 
the stockade with arrows and bullets, but Oconostota 
began to see that he could not take the fort by storm. 
About the time that he was forming this conclusion a 
spy sent by Robertson brought word to the Cherokee 
camp that Virginia troops were coming at once to help 
the Wataugans, which determined the Indian chief to 
turn back and give up the siege. He began at once 
to retrace his steps over the warpath, leading his 
warriors toward Echota, on the Little Tennessee River. 
Like a serpent in danger of its life, the Indian army 
trailed back to its hiding place in the forest, only 

7i 



Old Tales Retold. 

pausing on the way to take up Mrs. Bean and her 
guards. 

The captive was still kept unhurt. Oconostota did 
not desire her death. But no sooner had they reached 
Echota than Dragging Canoe began to insist that she 
should die. He declared that the woman ought to be 
burned at the stake. Oconostota argued against such 
a course. But Dragging Canoe was in a bad temper 
over his defeat at Island Flats, and insisted upon the 
sacrifice of Mrs. Bean. As Oconostota dared not op- 
pose too violently the will of the wounded chief, who 
was a man of power in the nation, he finally consented 
to the death of the captive. The time was fixed for 
her to be burned, and the day was set aside as an 
Indian holiday. 

Mrs. Bean had but one hope of being spared. If 
Nancy Ward, the prophetess of the Cherokees, who 
exercised the final power of sparing life or condemn- 
ing to death, would only lift her hand, she would be 
saved. But that hope failed. Her appeal to the be- 
loved woman was made in vain. No sign of mercy 
was shown. 

On the appointed day the captive was led to the 
center of the beloved square in the beloved town of 
Echota, where she was bound hand and foot to the 
stake. Dry sticks and fagots were piled around her 
limbs, and all was in readiness for the torch. But it 
was the custom of the Indians before the fire was 
lighted to torment the victims with clubs and stones 
and knives. The first stage of Mrs. Bean's sufferings 
began amid a din of yells and gibes, as her tormentors 
circled around her, when suddenly the noise ceased. 
A hush had fallen on the crowd. With one accord 

7 3 



A Snake in the Grass. 

they moved back and left the captive in the center of 
the square alone, except for the beloved woman, who 
had suddenly appeared at Mrs. Bean's side — they knew 
not how. The presence of her stately form among 
them at that moment seemed to the Indians as mys- 
terious as if she had been a visitor from the spirit 
world. No one had seen her coming, yet there she 
stood with rebuke in her clear, dark eyes. In strange, 
inhaled tones, she spoke to them, commanding them, 
with uplifted hands, to unbind the captive in the name 
of the Great Good Spirit. 

The most reckless among them ventured not to dis- 
obey the prophetess, through whom they believed they 
heard the will of the Guardian Spirit of the Cherokees. 
Mrs. Bean was unbound without delay. She was con- 
ducted by her deliverer to the sacred mystery lodge, 
where she was kindly sheltered until she was sent 
back to Watauga, several weeks later, under escort of 
a band of trusted warriors. 

Again the prophetess had redeemed her promise to 
James Robertson that she would always befriend the 
settlers of Watauga. Once more she had proved her- 
self worthy of the title which has been given her by 
grateful historians, and earned the right to be remem- 
bered by us as the "Pocahontas of the West." 

73 



VI. 

INCIDENTS OF EARLY TIMES. 

In olden times, around Tennessee firesides, many 
tales of pioneer life were told which have since been 
forgotten. We seldom hear nowadays of the man 
who gave his name to Spencer's tree ; and the story of 
Nancy Ward, the beloved woman of the. Cherokee 
nation, is almost unknown among us. Few of us 
realize the importance of Charlotte Robertson's ride 
when she saved the fort at the Bluff, and we are un- 
familiar with the anecdotes which our forefathers 
loved to relate of Castleman, the marvelous marksman, 
who never fired his trusty rifle "Betsy" without bring- 
ing down game. Neither do we hear now of the 
pioneers Mansco and Bledsoe, nor of Capt. John Rains, 
the noted hunter who supplied the settlement with 
meat by killing thirty-two bears in one winter, within 
seven miles of Nashville ; nor do we repeat the tales, 
once well known, concerning Timothy De Monbreun, 
who lived in a cave high up on the bank of the Cum- 
berland River. 

Of De Monbreun it is said that long ago, as early as 
1760, when the Cumberland counry was an uninhab- 
ited wilderness, he came from Kaskaskia, 111., by 
water, to the Salt Lick which is now called the Nash- 
ville Sulphur Spring. Floating down the Ohio with 
two boatmen to row his little French Canadian trading 
boat, loaded with trinkets and blankets, he came cau- 

74 



Incidents of Early Times. 

tiously toward the unknown country in search of sav- 
age customers for his trade. Upon reaching the 
mouth of the Cumberland, so the story runs, the ad- 
venturers entered its water and rowed upstream as 
far as the Bluff, where they found the sulphur spring 
branch flowing into the Cumberland. They paddled 
up the small stream as far as the boat could go, and 
then paused to look about them. The crew were 
thirsty and began to dip out water to drink. The 
first mouth fuls caused them surprise. "Salt as Lot's 
wife," cried one boatman in English, making a wry 
mouth ; "Sulphur," said the other in Portuguese, while 
De Monbreun made the same announcement in French. 
Sipping and tasting again, they began to debate as to 
whether or not this was a good place for a trading 
post. After much consideration they concluded that 
"where there is salt there are buffaloes, and where 
there are buffaloes Indians are sure to come." This 
opinion was confirmed when they had examined the 
broad, untimbered bottom land around the spring from 
which the stream issued. A thick growth of cane 
covered the open space, and through it were numerous 
paths leading to the lick. These paths and the thou- 
sands of buffalo hoof prints in the mud close about 
the spring made them feel sure that big game was 
plentiful. From this they argued that Indian hunt- 
ers would come often to a place so favorable for 
hunting, and they began to look about for a good sit- 
uation for the camp. Between the spring and the 
river they found an artificial mound of earth about 
sixty feet high and very large around the base. They 
selected it as a safe site for the camp, considering that 
from its great height they would be able to see en- 

75 



Old Tales Retold. 

emies at a distance if any should approach. It was 
also a good place from which to keep a sharp lookout 
for customers. Some one before them had evidently 
been of the same mind, for they found there the re- 
mains of a hut of upright poles, and upon the old site 
they built their own lodge. 

At the close of the day's labor the men camped for 
the night near the spring, but bright and early next 
morning they climbed the mound with packs of mer- 
chandise on their shoulders. In a short while the 
bales were opened, and soon afterwards the bushes 
and shrubs on the mound seemed to blossom with 
gaudy wares. Strands of beads were hung from limb 
to limb, tin cups and little pocket mirrors glistened in 
the morning sunlight, and yards of red cloth billowed 
with the breeze. The flaunting color and glittering 
trinkets were as attractive to savage eyes as candle- 
light to moths. 

It was not long before the canes in the spring bot- 
tom began to tremble in a certain place as though a 
living creature were concealed in the thicket. De 
Monbreun's eyes were fastened on the spot in evident 
satisfaction. Being an experienced frontiersman, he 
had known what to expect. The bait had been skill- 
fully prepared. He had only to wait and watch for 
his human game. He was not surprised to see the 
canes shake again. This time they were cautiously 
parted and a red man peeped forth from his hiding 
place. Presently the red man rose to his full height. 
By degrees he drew nearer to the mound. The white 
man made no sign. He only smiled while the savage 
came slowly forward, stopping short now and then as 
if doubtful whether or not the palefaced strangers 

7 6 



Incidents of Early Times. 

were friends or foes. Something in De Monbreun's 
appearance reassured him, and he continued to ad- 
vance until he was within speaking distance of the 
trader. 

Although De Monbreun was a tall, muscular man, 
with an expression of daring about the mouth and the 
bold glance of an eagle in his black eyes, there was 
an attractive expression in his face which induced con- 
fidence. Altogether odd-looking, from his large head 
(covered with a fox skin cap with the brush left on) 
to his remarkably slender legs, wrapped in deerskin 
leggings, his picturesque appearance was completed 
by a dull blue shirt, over which he wore a scarlet vest 
— the same in which he had fought as a French sol- 
dier at the storming of Quebec. The trader made the 
red man understand that he was ready to exchange the 
goods displayed on the mound for buffalo hides and 
pelts of other kinds. Thereupon the savage vanished, 
and again De Monbreun waited. Several days later 
he returned with several others of his tribe, bringing 
peltries for trade. 

In a short time the Frenchman was doing such a 
thriving business that he was led to make his home in 
the Cumberland wilderness. Seeking a safe dwelling 
place for himself and his wife, he chose for that pur- 
pose a cave in the cliffs of the river bank, a short dis- 
tance above the site of Nashville. This was his home 
for many years afterwards. He and his wife used a 
ladder to climb to the entrance, and drew it up after 
them, lest beasts or men might find the way to their 
cave. 

De Monbreun learned from the Indians with whom 
he dealt that long before his time another Frenchman 

77 



Old Tales Retold. 

had traded with their forefathers on top of the same 
mound on which he had built his first lodge. In the 
Frenchman's employ, they said, was one Carleville or 
Charleville, a mere boy, who grew up in the business 
and afterwards (when the older man came no more) 
succeeded to the trade, which he carried on for many 
years. As De Monbreun, who next came to the spring, 
was also a Frenchman, the place came to be called 
the French Salt Lick. 

De Monbreun made a great deal of money through 
bartering with the Indians. In fact, his business in- 
creased year by year until, in order to bring enough 
goods to the post and carry back to Kaskaskia the 
bales of peltries he had ready every few months, it 
became necessary for him to man a fleet of boats. He 
made frequent journeyings to Illinois himself for the 
purpose of selecting his wares. To keep pace with his 
large trade, he had to station hunters throughout the 
wildest parts of the Cumberland country to add to the 
stock of furs carried north by his boats. 

In 1778, twelve months before Robertson came to 
the Bluffs, one of De Monbreun's hunters had fixed his 
camp on Stone's River near where the Hermitage is 
now situated. Being a hardy, courageous fellow, used 
to fighting wild beasts and Indians, he was not one to 
be easily frightened by any creature of flesh or blood ; 
but he was full of superstition, and had a terror of 
whatever was mysterious. He believed in ghosts, gob- 
lins, dragons, and giants, so it is not strange that he 
should be alarmed at a sight which met his eyes one 
day when he had returned from the hunt. There, near 
the door of his hut, impressed in the soft mud, he 
saw a number of footprints of a size which amazed 

78 



Incidents of Early Times. 

him. They were larger than any human track he 
had ever seen. The hunter was used to the sight of 
Indians of great height, but he had never seen one 
who left a track as large as the print in the mud at 
which he now gazed in astonishment. He examined 
it narrowly, stooping to measure its length and 
breadth while he figured in his mind the height and 
strength of the man who had left it there that very 
day. In nervous dread of seeing its owner at his 
elbow, he arose and looked nervously about him. 
"Surely," said he, in a half whisper, "I have come 
into a land of giants. One of them has already vis- 
ited my cabin. If he finds me here, I am a doomed 
man." Stricken with fear, he turned his back on his 
lodge and ran as if he were pursued to the river 
bank. With never a look behind, he plunged into the 
stream and swam across to the other shore, where he 
fled as fast as he could go into the woods. For days 
he roamed the forest, not knowing what direction to 
take. By chance he came to the Ohio River. From 
there he hastened on without stopping, and finally 
reached Kaskaskia, where he told about the giants who 
lived in the Cumberland country — marvelous tales, 
which made the people open their eyes in wonder. 

It was not known until long afterwards that the 
large tracks had been made by a harmless pioneer 
named Thomas Sharpe Spencer, who had accidentally 
passed near the lodge in hunting. Spencer was in- 
deed a man of extraordinary size, but there was noth- 
ing ferocious about him. On the contrary, he was 
remarkably kind and gentle-hearted. Among the 
earliest of pioneers, he had visited the Cumberland 
country in 1776 in company with John Halliday to 

79 



Old Tales Retold. 

explore and hunt in the unknown forests. In his 
wanderings he happened to go some distance from 
his own lodge, which was near to Bledsoe's Lick, not 
far from where Gallatin was afterwards built, and in 
passing the hut of De Monbreun's hunter he had left 
there his footprints in the mud. 

On this and all other expeditions along the Cum- 
berland Spencer was impressed with the variety and 
large size of the forest trees, as well as the richness 
of the soil and the abundance of long grass for pas- 
turage which he found throughout the country. He 
resolved to stay and plant a field in corn in the new 
country, instead of going back to the Holston settle- 
ment, as he had intended. 

Halliday, his companion, did not care to stay; and 
when he found he could not persuade him, Spencer 
went with him as far as the border of Kentucky to 
put him safely that far on his way home. Kind and 
thoughtful to the last, the big man with the big heart 
broke in two pieces his long hunting knife and gave 
one-half to Halliday, who had unfortunately lost his 
own blade as he was about to take the perilous home- 
ward journey through Kentucky. 

With only half a knife and his rifle, Spencer turned 
back into the forest and began to look out for a site 
for his lonely home. He was fortunate in finding not 
only a suitable place for a field, but there also he 
found ready to hand a large dwelling, vacant of a 
tenant. The foundations of the structure were fas- 
tened deep in the earth, the walls were tinted silver 
gray, the lofty roof was lichen green, and its fretted 
pinnacles towered toward the sky. The dwelling had 
a tall opening in one side, through which Spencer 

80 



Incidents of Early Times. 

walked into the hollow of the great sycamore tree 
which was to be his home, and took possession of a 
spacious chamber which measured nearly eleven feet 
across and thirty feet or more around. The new pro- 
prietor stood his gun against the wall, hung powder 
horn and drinking cup upon projections of the wood, 
and was ready for housekeeping. At nightfall he 
spread down a furry bearskin, rolled his blanket into 
a pillow, and lay down to sleep as serenely as if on 
a bed of down, in a house made with hands. 

Spencer lived in his tree through the varying sea- 
sons of a full year, caring nothing for wind nor rain, 
and minding neither heat nor cold in his snug retreat. 
The tall sycamore known as Spencer's Tree stood 
many years after its tenant had passed away, and 
was long pointed out as an example of the magnificent 
growth found by the pioneers in our primeval forests. 

Heroines as well as heroes of frontier life should 
have a place in our memory. There was Mrs. Mc- 
Ewen (afterwards the wife of the Rev. Samuel Doak), 
whose courageous spirit was shown at the siege of 
Houston Station (six miles from where Maryville 
stands). There was a garrison of only twelve white 
men to defend the place against the attack of more 
than a hundred Indians. At the first alarm the white 
men sprang to the portholes, while the women helped 
in various ways. "Give me the bullet molds," cried 
Mrs. McEwen. "We can surely mold the bullets 
while you men do the fighting." The next moment 
found her bending over the hearth of flagstones melt- 
ing lead and pouring it into the molds. As they 
were finished she dealt them out rapidly to one and 
6 8i 



Old Tales Retold. 

another of the soldiers. While she was thus engaged, 
"ping!" came a bullet from without, leaping through 
a crack where the chinking had been shot out of the 
wall, and striking near where she knelt. With per- 
fect composure, Mrs. McEwen lifted her eyes to watch 
it rebound from the hard log wall and roll upon the 
floor; then, snatching the flattened missile she quickly 
melted it and molded it into a new bullet, which she 
gave to her husband with the remark : "Here is a ball 
run out of the Indians' lead. Send it back to them 
as quickly as possible. It is their own; let them have 
it and welcome." 

Of the same fearless type was Mrs. Gillespie in the 
Holston country. Her husband was leaving home 
one morning to be gone several days on business. She 
had gone outside with him to see him off, and did not 
turn to reenter the house until he was out of hearing 
distance. As she entered the door a band of Indians, 
who had been watching from a canebrake near the 
house, rose from their hiding place and trooped in 
after her. 

Whatever might have been her feelings, the heroic 
woman's manner was calm as she bade the intruders 
welcome. Knowing full well that savages, like bad 
dogs, attack those who show fear of them, she hoped 
by being self-possessed to avoid danger. She took 
no notice when one of the warriors began, with a 
threatening glance at her, to draw his knife back and 
forth across his sleeve with a movement as if he were 
sharpening the blade. All the while he was walking 
nearer by degrees to the baby's cradle in the chimney 
corner. His eyes were still fixed on the helpless moth- 

82 



Incidents of Early Times. 

er as he leaned over the child and made a sign with his 
finger of his intention to scalp the babe. 

If Mrs. Gillespie had been weak at this moment, her 
child would have been speedily murdered. With nat- 
urally quick wit she realized that strategy alone could 
save him. Rushing to the open door, she began call- 
ing with all her might, as if help was close at hand : 
"White men, come home ! Indians ! Indians !" 

Completely deceived by her false alarm, the sav- 
ages dashed out of the house in genuine fright, and 
fled pellmell down the hill toward the spring, where 
they scattered through the canebrake on the farther 
side of the branch and disappeared. But their escape 
was not for long. When Captain Gillespie returned 
and heard of their misconduct, he gathered his neigh- 
bors together, and, going out in pursuit of the band, 
he overtook them and punished them to his satisfaction. 

George Mann's cabin was in the woods, twelve miles 
from the present situation of Knoxville. It was his 
first winter in "the new world west of the Alleghanies," 
and he did not know to what danger his little family 
might be exposed in the wilderness. He dreaded to 
leave home at any time lest wild beasts should attack 
them in his absence. To insure them some protection 
he loaded a gun and taught his wife how to fire it at 
a mark he had fastened to a tree. He then took great 
pains to show her how to load the weapon and how 
to set the double triggers, so that in case anything 
should happen while he was gone she might defend 
herself and their small children. This done, he placed 
the gun in its rack on the wall and, shouldering his 

§3 



Old Tales Retold. 

other rifle, started off on a hunt to provide meat for 
the family table. 

Mrs. Mann saw nothing of him all that day. To- 
ward evening she heard firing in the forest beyond 
their stable, and went outside the house expecting to 
meet her husband returning from the hunt. But 
though she waited long, he did not appear. Night 
came on and still he had not returned. She had made 
the house as secure as she could by closing the door 
and letting the wooden latch fall to its place. Her 
little ones had been put to bed, and she was still waiting 
for her husband's coming when she heard voices out- 
side laughing and talking. She sprang toward the 
door, feeling sure it was her husband with some neigh- 
bors. Her hand was on the latch when she stopped 
to listen. She could tell by this time that the words 
were spoken neither in English nor German nor 
French. There was only one other tongue in that 
country. The isolated woman realized that without 
a doubt Indians were almost at her threshold. She 
darted back into the room. With unnatural strength 
she dragged forward tables, benches, and other heavy 
furniture to barricade the door. For fear the children 
should cry or call, she piled pillows, quilts, and 
blankets on their bed to stifle their voices. Then she 
snatched the gun from its rack and placed herself to 
meet the danger. By this time the savages were beat- 
ing on the door. The woman inside stood quite still. 
Her gun was pointed toward the door, which the 
assailants were pounding with fists and tomahawks. 
The noise was appalling. Prizing with gun stocks and 
fence rails, they were trying with might and main to 
enter. No shriek or word came from the pioneer 

8 4 



Incidents of Early Times. 

heroine. Only by being calm and quiet could she 
hope to save her children. The door began to give 
way, yet she did not utter a sound. She merely took 
a step forward and watched the crack widen. An 
opening was made almost wide enough for an Indian 
to squeeze through. Against the faint moonlight Mrs. 
Mann could see a struggling form in the crack with 
others pushing hard behind him. Seizing her oppor- 
tunity, she advanced and placed the muzzle of her 
gun almost against the foremost savage. The double 
triggers were set. There was an explosion, and three 
Indians fell outward, one upon another. The bullet 
had pierced the three in quick succession. Its deadly 
work and the perfect silence inside caused the assail- 
ants to imagine that the cabin was full of armed men. 
In this belief they took to their heels and fled — twenty- 
five warriors of them — from the fire of one lone wom- 
an. 

George Mann never came back to his home. On 
returning late in the afternoon to his cabin he had been 
cut off by the same party of Indians, who afterwards 
tried to enter the house. It was the noise of the 
Indians' guns while they were killing her husband 
which Mrs. Mann had heard just before dark. 

85 



VII. 

THE VOYAGE OF THE ADVENTURE. 

After a while, the people of Watauga, tired of strife, 
began to talk of a country still farther west, where it 
was thought there would be no trouble with Indians. 
Hunters who visited it spoke highly of a region sur- 
rounding a fine salt sulphur spring, called the French 
Salt Lick, near the "Bluffs," on the lower Cumberland, 
where there had formerly been a French trading post. 
They described the immediate vicinity of the spring 
as an opening surrounded by grand timber. The open- 
ing, they said, was covered with luxuriant grass and 
cane, and was frequented by buffalo and other game 
which came to lick the salt deposit around the spring. 
So great, they declared, were their numbers that "the 
bellowings of buffalo fell upon their ears before they 
came in view, like the roar of a cataract or the lumber- 
ings of a thunderstorm." The hunters also reported 
that the country was entirely free from Indians. 
There were, they said, no wigwams within hundreds 
of miles in any direction , and the vast hunting grounds 
lying between the Ohio and Cumberland Rivers had 
lately been peaceably purchased from the Cherokees. 
Colonel Henderson (the treaty maker) had bought it 
with the aid of Daniel Boone in a treaty with the 
Indians at Sycamore Shoals (Watauga), paying for 
the whole purchase fifty thousand dollars in blankets 
and trinkets. Colonel Henderson was now ready to 

86 



The Voyage of the Adventure. 

sell portions of the land to any persons who applied. 
There were many who were anxious to go to a spot 
which was distant on all sides from Indians. This 
was the chief object of the earliest emigrants to the 
Cumberland country in moving farther into the wil- 
derness. Peace, not war, was the desire of their 
hearts. This was the spirit in which the settlement at 
the French Salt Lick, where Nashville was later built, 
was first begun. 

Among those who caught the western fever were 
Col. John Donelson, a noted frontier surveyor, and 
James Robertson, the head man of Watauga. A plan 
was set on foot by them to move with their own fam- 
ilies and others to the new country. There were two 
ways by which to get there. One was to go five hun- 
dred miles overland through the dangerous ground 
of Kentucky; the other way was to take boat on the 
Holston, follow the current of that river and of the 
Tennessee, into which it flows, to the Ohio; then up 
to the mouth of the Cumberland and proceed up that 
stream to the "Big Salt Lick," making a course of 
two thousand miles by water. It was hard to say 
which route would be most hazardous. Finally, it 
was agreed that James Robertson should go in ad- 
vance, by way of Kentucky, taking with him his good 
friends George Freeland, William Neely, Edward 
Swanson, James Handly, and William Overall, who 
were men of tried faithfulness and courage. The rest 
of the men, with all the women and children, were 
to follow by water with Donelson on a fleet of thirty 
or more boats of various shapes and sizes, led by the 
good boat Adventure. Robertson's wife, Charlotte 
Reeves Robertson, with her five children, as well as 

s 7 



Old Tales Retold. 

the families of Donelson and others, were on board 
the flagship Adventure, which carried a sail. 

The fleet of house boats, flatboats, dugouts, and 
canoes left Fort Patrick Henry, on the Holston, on the 
226. day of December, 1779, bound for the lower Cum- 
berland. It would be a mistake to suppose that the 
pioneer families were gloomy or fearful at thought of 
the dangers of their long voyage. On the contrary, 
except when they were in immediate peril, they were 
remarkably gay and hopeful, perhaps a little reckless. 
During the four months they were on the way the 
emigrants beguiled the time with songs and tales and 
jests, besides many a dance on deck. Colonel Don- 
elson's handsome daughter Rachel (who afterwards 
married the renowned Andrew Jackson) was said to 
have had, above the rest, "a light foot in the dance." 
Rachel Donelson has been elsewhere described as a 
young woman "with that magnetic personality that 
sways and controls hearts," and whose "sparkling 
black eyes" were the admiration of all. Diversion 
was otherwise found in providing game for the table. 
The men would often stop to fish or shoot along the 
banks. Among various exploits of the kind, a mem- 
ber of the party shot a swan on the Cumberland, which 
"was delicious," according to the record of Colonel 
Donelson in the journal which he kept of the events 
of the voyage. This is an interesting entry, showing 
that there were feathered creatures found by the early 
settlers now unknown in Tennessee. Still earlier trav- 
elers in the eastern part of the State have written of 
paroquets and other semi-tropical birds seen in its 
forests. Though the voyagers were as a rule buoy- 
ant and care free, the journey was not made without 

88 " 



The Voyage of the Adventure. 

danger, suffering, and loss. One boat's crew which 
became infected with smallpox was necessarily allowed 
to drop behind, and perished at the hands of the In- 
dians. John Cotton's boat was capsized in the "Nar- 
rows" of the Tennessee, in the swirling waters called 
the "Boiling Pot." Mr. Gower's boat was fired on 
from the heights on both sides of the "Narrows." It 
was then that his daughter Nancy distinguished her- 
self for courage and presence of mind. While the men 
were dazed with alarm, she took the helm and steered 
the boat to safety, though she had been wounded by 
a bullet. As she uttered no groan or word of com- 
plaint, it was not suspected by those she saved that 
she was hurt until all danger was over, and it was 
found that she had been shot through the thigh. 

The party who went in advance by land reached their 
destination long before Donelson's fleet arrived. On 
the cold Christmas day of 1779 they found themselves 
on the eastern bank of the frozen Cumberland, and 
crossed on ice to the Bluffs. 

On May 24, 1780, the travelers by boat reached the 
same point on the river. They were rejoiced on land- 
ing to see that a number of snug log cabins had been 
built for them by Robertson and his companions. 
Otherwise, the prospect was rather dreary. Cane- 
brakes, cedars, and unbroken woods only were to be 
seen anywhere except in the small space about the 
spring, which the men had planted in corn. The 
light-hearted people made the best of their situation. 
They neatly arranged in their cabins the few articles 
of furniture they had brought, and turned their cattle 
out to graze, with bells on their necks and hobbles on 
their feet, until fences could be built to keep them 

89 



Old Tales Retold. 

from straying too far. '"Hie pioneers were then ready 
to cultivate the fields which had been planted by the 
first comers. They worked hard, and looked forward 
cheerfully to the time when the grain should be har- 
vested. The brightest hopes of the new settlers were 
later realized. In the end their dreams of peace and 
plenty were fulfilled. But there was a period of four- 
teen years of danger from Indians, and even a short 
time of distress for food ahead of them in their new 
home before they fully reaped the reward of their 
courage and patient endurance of hardships. 

It is true that Oconostota's warriors on the east no 
longer disturbed them; and that their nearest red 
neighbor on the west, the peace-loving Piomingo (the 
"Mountain Leader," who was chief of the Chicka- 
saws) boasted that he had never shed a white man's 
blood in anger ; yet they had dangerous enemies in the 
Chickamaugas, the same tribe near Lookout Mountain 
who had attacked their boats in the "Narrows" of the 
Tennessee. These and the almost equally fierce 
Creeks from Alabama often came, by way of a trail 
known to themselves, across the country to threaten 
the settlers on the Cumberland. Added to harassment 
from the savages, the pioneers, during their second 
winter at the Bluffs, had also to contend with scarcity 
of food. The cold winter of 1779-80 had killed so 
many of the creatures of the woods that there was but 
little meat to eat. And as the river that year over- 
flowed the sulphur spring bottom in June and swept 
away the settlers' first crop of corn when it was knee- 
high, too late to replant, the people suffered equally 
for lack of bread. The price of the grain rose to a 
dollar and sixty cents a bushel, and could only be 

9° 



The Voyage of the Adventure. 

procured at all by sending occasional pack horses for 
it to Kentucky. Meal was so scarce that it was cooked 
in small quantities only for the aged, the sick, or the 
very young. Exceptions to the rule were rare occa- 
sions, such as wedding feasts, at which the bride's 
cake was a large loaf or "pone'' of eggbread ; or the 
arrival of strangers, before whom was invariably set 
the best food that could be had. Newcomers were wel- 
come in every home, and there was no bill to pay when 
they left. It was the custom to give merrymakings 
in their honor, usually in the front yard, which was 
swept and strewn with wild flowers for the festival. 
Manufactured articles were, of course, rare on the 
frontiers. The only ink in use was made, as needed, 
from gunpowder. Horse collars of corn shucks and 
traces of rawhide were common. Seats were often 
only homemade stools, round or square. Gourds of 
all shapes and sizes, up to the "punger gourd," which 
held four or five gallons, were used for storing salt, 
soap, lard, and other supplies. Not a few families 
ate their meals with pieces of sharpened cane instead 
of forks, and all beat corn into meal by hand, there 
being no gristmills in the country. The only sugar 
in use was made from the boiled sap of maple trees. 
As the population of the settlement on the Cumberland 
increased, some began to grow tired of the hardships 
they had to endure and the dangers they had to en- 
counter in pioneer life. In their discontent they open- 
ly declared that they were sorry they had ever come 
into the wilderness. 

At last, when affairs grew desperate, the malcon- 
tents publicly proposed that they should all abandon 
the place and move away in a body. They were for 

9 1 



Old Tales Retold. 

going at once. Others were for staying, and still oth- 
ers frankly said they would be guided in the matter 
by the advice of James Robertson, who had not yet 
spoken his views on the subject. He knew the diffi- 
culties and perils. He had weighed the matter well 
and, being urged, he called the men to meet in council 
and said to them : "I do not deny the great danger we 
are in, both from starvation and from savages. 
Whether we go or whether we stay, we may all be 
destroyed, either here in our homes or on our way 
back through Kentucky. Yet you all, each one of you, 
must decide for yourselves. As for me and mine, 
we will stay." 

Only a few of the men decided to leave. The re- 
mainder, encouraged by his steadfast example, said 
they would stand by their leader and share his fate. 
From that time they gave up thoughts of seeking ease 
in older communities and went earnestly to work to 
make their own situation what they desired it to be. 
By hard labor and brave resistance they laid the foun- 
dation of Middle Tennessee with the rifle and the ax. 
By their courage and fortitude Robertson's journey 
by land was turned to good account; and as a result 
of their determination the voyage of the "good boat 
Adventure'' was saved from being a futile enterprise. 

92 



VIII. 
THE HORNETS' NEST. 

There was a time during the Revolutionary War 
when the British army overran North Carolina. The 
veteran royal troops under Cruger and Ferguson and 
Tarletan went about throughout the country just east 
of the Unaka Mountains burning houses, robbing and 
abusing the owners, and driving from their homes all 
who loved liberty. Whole families roamed from place 
to place, not having where to lay their heads. Wom- 
en and children fled across the mountains for safety. 
Some on horseback, some on foot, they toiled over the 
Unakas to seek refuge among the free-spirited back- 
woods settlers who had never yet bowed the neck to 
an English king. Into their simple pioneer homes the 
wanderers were kindly welcomed. No door in the 
Watauga settlement was closed against the homeless. 
In Carter's Valley and on the Nollichucky River they 
were welcomed. There was scarcely a cabin in the 
border country without its refugee Carolina guests. 

The families of Colonel Clarke, Colonel McDowell, 
and other Carolinians who were out fighting against 
the British were comfortably housed in the home of 
Captain John Sevier on the Nollichucky. 

Wherever the refugees told their story of the hard- 
ships they had suffered, the frontiersmen were stirred 
to more active resistance to the English. They wanted 
to mount their fleet horses and dash across the border, 
as they had done at Thickety Fort, and punish the 

93 



Old Tales Retold, 

offenders at once. If only Nollichucky Jack (as they 
called their beloved Captain Sevier) would be their 
leader, they felt sure of success, for the British feared 
him as they would a human hornet, and called the 
borderland through which he ranged the "Hornets' 
Nest." 

While the backwoodsmen were in this restless hu- 
mor, Col. Patrick Ferguson recklessly insulted every 
patriot on the western frontier anew. He was fool- 
hardy enough to send a special messenger from his 
camp near Gilbert Town, east of the Blue Ridge, di- 
rect to "King's Meadows," Col. Isaac Shelby's cattle 
ranch (near the present site of Bristol), with an in- 
solent message to Shelby himself, as well as to Sevier 
and other border leaders and their followers. Said 
Ferguson to his courier, in the blindness of his folly: 
"Tell that set of banditti to stay at home and keep 
quiet, or I will cross the mountain and have their hor- 
nets' nest burned out." 

If the British colonel had disturbed an actual nest of 
hornets, he could not have caused a greater uproar. 
In hot haste Colonel Shelby mounted his horse to 
take the important news to John Sevier, "the efficient 
commander of Washington County," and concert with 
him for measures of defense. The hardy Shelby, a 
man of grand size and great endurance, traveled fully 
fifty miles southward from his ranch before he rode 
under the crossbeam of the gateway into Sevier's 
picketed yard. In the log house on the Nollichucky 
the two soldierly men talked long and anxiously about 
the affairs of their country. Firmly resolved never to 
be ruled by prince or king or royal governor, they 
determined to defend their over-mountain land against 

94 



The Hornets 3 Nest. 

the British army to the last. Though the revolutionary 
cause seemed to be lost, General Washington himself 
having lately said, "I have almost ceased to hope," they 
made up their minds to remain unconquered. With 
the spirit which afterwards gained for their land. the 
title of the "Young Switzerland of America," the 
resolute leaders agreed that, though New England and 
all the other colonies might be forced to yield to the 
tyranny of England, they would keep one spot in Amer- 
ica free, or die in the attempt. 

In considering their plans, Sevier's advice, in ac- 
cordance with his usual rule of warfare, was to "take 
the war into the enemy's country." With their moun- 
tain men (the border soldiers who could stay in the 
saddle a week at a time), he believed it would be pos- 
sible to hunt out the British colonel and bring him to 
account for his arrogance. 

Their course being decided upon, the two command- 
ers called a meeting of officers and set to work to col- 
lect troops from all parts of the country. Before sep- 
arating they appointed Sycamore Shoals (Watauga 
Old Fields) as the place of meeting, and named a day 
for the march over the mountains. 

Colonel Shelby went back to King's Meadows to 
rouse the backwater men on the Virginia border, while 
Sevier called around him his own confidential fol- 
lowers. His eyes were full of determination as he 
said to them: "Go tell my men to come and help me 
thrash Ferguson." 

Without delay each trusty courier sprang to the 
saddle and sped away to rally the patriots of the 
frontier country. There was not a cove or valley 
which they did not penetrate with the message. Nor 

95 



Old Tales Retold. 

was there a mountain height on which a cabin might 
be perched where they did not tell the news. "The 
Redcoats are coming!" they shouted aloud; "rally 
for 'Chucky Jack and freedom !" And on they went 
through all the thinly settled region, only pausing 
long enough at each "clearing" to cry: "Ferguson is 
not far off, making his boasts that he will come and 
burn out our hornets' nest and hang our leaders. 
Rally for 'Chucky Jack ! The Redcoats are com- 
ing!" 

The refugee women and children trembled at the 
thought of being hunted out again by the ruthless 
"regulars" of Ferguson's army. But when they saw 
how eagerly each frontiersman took his rifle from the 
deer horn rack and flung himself across his horse to 
answer the summons, they could not but feel secure 
again. There was swift mounting and there were hur- 
ried partings, at the stirring call to arms. The spirit 
of the backwoods was on fire. Like hornets, indeed, 
the men were darting out to sting the enemy who 
threatened their homes, their liberties, and their lives. 
Sevier had called to them : "Come and help me thrash 
Ferguson." What more was needed to bring every 
true man to his side ? 

Volunteers came promptly from mountain and cove. 
Captain Robert Sevier brought his light horsemen to 
his brother's aid, and the "Tall Watauga Boys," 
whose old leader, James Robertson, had lately moved 
with a number of families still farther westward, were 
eager to follow Sevier. 

Colonel Shelby and the two valiant Campbells had 
already collected a considerable force of Virginians to 
join in the quick, sharp raid Sevier proposed to make 

96 



The Hornets' Nest. 

across the mountains to whip Ferguson in his camp 
at Gilbert Town. At the same time McDowell, Hamp- 
ton, and Cleveland, from North Carolina, readily 
agreed to unite with him in carrying out his plan. For 
some days the various leaders were actively engaged 
in preparation; and their evenings, far into the night, 
were spent together in consultation over the details of 
the campaign. 

Those were busy days for John Sevier as well as 
for the young mistress of his home, formerly the 
"Bonny Kate" Sherrill, whose heart and hands were 
full with ministering to the refugees who had come 
to them for shelter. The many rooms in Sevier's 
residence (which was a collection of log buildings 
added from time to time as they had been needed) 
were all required for the company now under his 
rambling roofs. Yet notwithstanding the unusual 
stress of household duties Catherine Sherrill found 
time for numerous acts of charity. Among those to 
whom she gave daily help was poor Nancy Dyke, who 
came regularly for a "measure of meal and a flitch of 
bacon." Nancy's worthless husband, a despised Tory, 
had left her and her small children in their hut in the 
forest the year before; and but for Mrs. Sevier's 
charity, they would have starved. 

One morning, preparing to supply the wants of the 
abandoned family, Mrs. Sevier had turned the great 
iron key in the smokehouse door, when she was startled 
by a sob from the poor creature at her side. "What 
ails you, Nancy?" was asked so compassionately that 
tears started to Nancy's eyes, and with an outcry she 
threw herself at the kind lady's feet. 

"You are so good to me," she said between sobs, 

7 97 



Old Tales Retold. 

"that I cannot see danger come nigh your husband 
and not tell you what I know." 

"Danger to my husband?" cried Mrs. Sevier in 
alarm. "What can you mean ? Speak !" 

The woman hesitated, but the truth was forced from 
her lips. "Why, ma'am," she faltered, "he's come 
back to me, Dyke has. Last night there were some 
bad 'king's men' talking with him outside the door. 
I heard them through the chink say : 'Nollichucky Jack 
does not bar his doors at night. It will be easy work 
while he sleeps to rid the country of him and do the 
king a service.' They mean to kill Captain Sevier this 
very night." Then, frightened at what she had said, 
Nancy began to beg for mercy for her husband. 
"Don't let him be hurt," she pleaded. "He was not 
always the 'Traitor Bill Dyke' they call him now. He 
used to treat me well." 

Her pitiful prayer would have been heard and the 
culprit would have been spared for the sake of his 
wife if the matter had rested with Captain Sevier. 
But the men of Nollichucky were excited to indigna- 
tion when they heard of this Tory plot to take the life 
of their commander. Indeed, they could scarcely wait 
an hour to get their hands on Bill Dyke. Yet, when 
they caught him that night, they were merciful enough 
not to hang the criminal. They only stripped him of 
his clothing and gave him, in its place, an ample coat 
of tar and feathers. Turned loose in this sorry plight, 
the wretched man went flying across the mountain like 
an evil bird, as straight as he could go to Ferguson's 
camp. There he told of the gathering of the back- 
woodsmen, and offered to guide the British troops into 
the heart of the frontier country by an easy route. 

9 S 




JOHN SEVIER. 



^ 



The Hornets' Nest. 

But when Ferguson heard what a stir his threats 
had caused he backed quickly, as far as he could, to- 
ward the interior of North Carolina. Having reached 
what he thought was a safe position, he stopped and 
made the boastful declaration that, "as to those barba- 
rians from the backwoods," he did not fear them. 
With blasphemous oaths he defied any power in heaven 
or earth to overcome him. Colonel Ferguson did not 
then know the lesson that was afterwards taught him : 
that men who are fighting for their homes are always 
to be feared, no matter how few their numbers. 

On the 25th day of September, 1780, men, women, 
and children, black and white, all who could walk or 
ride, poured into the camp at Watauga Old Fields, 
the rendezvous of the border troops. Never before in 
the Western wilds had there been such a gathering of 
people as met there near the old fort where Elizabeth- 
ton now stands. Under the shade of the oaks that 
fringed the old field the volunteers were grouped, sur- 
rounded by friends who cheered, comforted, and ad- 
vised while they waited for the order to march. Pride 
flashed in Nollichucky Jack's eyes as he rode up and 
down the field reviewing his men. His were soldiers 
of whom a commander might well be proud, though 
they were dressed in homespun hunting shirts and 
leggings (fringed and tasseled), with buck's tails in 
their hats for plumes, and had only rations of parched 
corn in the deer hide knapsacks on their backs. To a 
man, they were remarkable for height and strength 
of body; and each one of them was a sure marksman 
with his flintlock gun, as well as skillful in the use of 
the knife or tomahawk in his belt. 

Sevier's erect figure, wherever it appeared, was the 

nrr 99 



Old Tales Retold. 

signal for hearty cheers and greetings. Every man in 
the ranks was his devoted friend. He had something 
to say to each, with special, personal kindness. To 
all alike he said in the quiet, magnetic voice which 
made his lightest word a command : "We must whip 
Ferguson." The cry was caught up from man to 
man, spreading from rank to rank, and gathering 
force as it went, till the Watauga hills resounded with 
the shout : "We must whip Ferguson !" 

The ardor of Sevier's own spirit was ablaze in ev- 
ery heart. It seemed a propitious moment to begin 
the march. Yet there was a pause and a few moments 
of waiting for something of importance which was 
first to be done. Not until the blessing of God had 
been asked for their undertaking would the patriot 
band be ready to sweep out on the trail after Ferguson. 

The Rev. Samuel Doak had been in camp all day, 
preparing the soldiers' souls for the dangers they were 
so soon to meet. It was the same "Parson Doak" 
who had brought the first collection of books worthy 
to be called a library to the wilderness of the south- 
west. On leaving his Alma Mater, the college of 
Princeton, as a young man, he had packed his books 
upon his horse and had driven the laden beast across 
the Alleghanies and across Virginia, himself walking 
behind, to the new settlement on Watauga. There he 
had founded a college and a church in which he elo- 
quently exhorted his hearers to "Cease to do evil and 
learn to do well." And now his people called upon 
the good man, "whose smile was a benediction in it- 
self," to offer for them and their cause a final prayer. 

Making a wide circle, the backwoodsmen sur- 
rounded the parson in his black skullcap, long cloak, 

ioo 



The Hornets Nest. 

knee breeches, and buckled shoes. Reverently, with 
bared heads they bowed in silence while Father Doak 
placed them in care of the "Giver of all victories." 
The prayer ended, he spoke to the patriots, as only he 
could, burning words that sent the blood tingling 
through their veins. When at the last he raised his 
voice in the command, "Go forth, my brave men, go 
forth with the sword of the Lord and of Gideon!" he 
was answered by a shout that seemed to shake the 
earth. 

With one impulse the men sprang to their saddles 
and started up the stony mountain path, calling back 
again: "The sword of the Lord and of Gideon!" In 
long Indian file they toiled on and upward, still shout- 
ing, "The sword of the Lord and of Gideon!" The 
sound, mingling with the other cry, "We must whip 
Ferguson," was borne to the people in the camp 
grounds below, who still stood, with prayers and 
blessings on their lips, straining ears and eyes after 
the departing sons, husbands, fathers, brothers until 
the last soldier was out of view. The men from the 
Hornets' Nest were off in a swarm after Ferguson. 
How they stung his army and silenced his wicked 
boasts in the battle of King's Mountain is a story to 
be told hereafter. 

101 



IX. 

ON TO KING'S MOUNTAIN. 

The over-mountain men rushed down the eastern 
slopes of the Blue Ridge, hot on the trail after Patrick 
Ferguson. The colonel of the British "regulars" had 
goaded the backwoods soldiers to fury by his gibes 
and taunts. Great was their chagrin then, on reach- 
ing the level country, to find that he had broken camp 
at Gilbert Town and was already far on his way east- 
ward. What to do now the frontier leaders could not 
tell. They knew that Colonel Ferguson was hurrying 
to reach Cornwallis's army before they should over- 
take him, but they could learn nothing of his exact 
whereabouts. If they allowed him to get away, he 
would be sure to reenforce his army and return with 
overwhelming numbers to give battle. If, on the other 
hand, they followed too far, they might be led directly 
into the enemy's lines. Only one thing was certain : 
Ferguson was out of reach, at least for the present. 
The angry swarm of backwoodsmen, pouring out of 
the region which Ferguson had contemptuously called 
the "Hornets' Nest," was suddenly checked and con- 
fused. In their dilemma the patriot army halted for 
the night. Their able commanders, Colonels Shelby, 
McDowell, and Sevier, led by Colonel Campbell, con- 
cluded to await the arrival of Colonel Cleveland be- 
fore going farther. Cleveland and his rough riders 
from Wilkes and Surrey Counties, in North Carolina, 

I02 



On to Kings Mountain. 



v & 



had promised to join the over-mountain men as soon 
as they should have crossed the dividing range. The 
latter had not long to wait. Early in the night the 
tramp of a mounted troop was heard not far off. At 
length a band of weather-beaten soldiers, led by the 
"brave and gentle Cleveland," filed down the mountain 
path out of the shadows of the forest into the ruddy 
light of the camp fires. Behind the hardy rough 
riders, whose lives were spent in the saddle, trooped a 
motley crowd of North Carolina patriots, men without 
officers and officers without men. They were the rem- 
nant of disbanded troops who, having fought the Brit- 
ish as long as their ranks could hold together, had 
now come singly and in groups to volunteer in the 
desperate raid after Ferguson. Mingled with these 
determined men of war were numbers of women and 
children whose homes had been destroyed by the le- 
gions of Tarletan and Cruger. Having nowhere else 
to go, they had followed their husbands and fathers to 
war. As they could not be safely left behind, they 
had been allowed to come thus far from the ruins of 
their houses to await the result of the fight with 
Ferguson. The return to home, the enjoyment of 
liberty, everything dear to these helpless wanderers, 
depended upon the issue of the expected battle. 

The dawn of next morning's light showed the faces 
of the refugees pale and haggard from marching and 
watching. Col. John Sevier was moved to pity at the 
thought that their only hope, as well as the hope of all 
good Americans, lay in the success of the enterprise in 
hand. The cause of the Revolution seemed well-nigh 
lost. A victory for the patriots was the absolute need 
of the hour. Sevier felt sure that a decided triumph 

103 



Old Tales Retold. 

over the skillful Ferguson would serve to turn the 
tide of war in favor of the Americans, and make it 
possible for the people to return to their homes. 

Impressed with the idea that the enemy must be 
overtaken at all hazards, he said emphatically, in coun- 
cil with the other officers : "We must catch Ferguson, 
wherever he may be." The noted scout, Enoch Gil- 
mer, coining in at that moment from a reconnoitering 
expedition, remarked, with a twinkle in his eyes : "Very 
well, then; I can tell you where he is. But you will 
have to be quick to overtake him. This very morn- 
ing I saw his army, fourteen hundred strong. It 
was already ten miles from last night's encampment, 
and still moving forward." In proof of his state- 
ments, Gilmer delivered up a dispatch he had captured 
from a courier sent by Ferguson to Cornwallis. From 
the dispatch it was learned that Ferguson would soon 
be intrenched on a ridge he called King's Mountain; 
and while he boasted of the strength of the position, 
it was noticed that he urged his general to send re- 
enforcements to him at once. The patriots realized 
that if he should fortify the crest of King's Mountain 
and be joined there by still other troops it would be 
madness to attack him, yet Sevier insisted upon fol- 
lowing his trail. 

Consequently, a forced march was agreed upon, al- 
though there were only about nine hundred of the 
frontier patriots in condition to join in the long, rapid 
pursuit of the enemy. Toward evening such soldiers 
as were fit were chosen out, and the rest were ordered 
to wait in camp for the return of the army. But the 
order did not suit the spirit of the patriotic foot sol- 
diers who had volunteered to join in the desperate ex- 

104 



On to Kings Mountain. 

pedition. If Ferguson was to be caught, they wanted to 
help catch him. They had come out to fight, and would 
not be put off. Even though they might not hope to 
keep pace with the fleet mountain horses of the rifle- 
men, they insisted upon starting out with the raiders 
and going as far as possible on the way. The wom- 
en also, not wishing to be left behind, declared that 
they would take their children by the hand and follow 
the army as long as they could walk. 

Notwithstanding the ardor of the men and the 
desperation of the women, they could not have kept 
up with the cavalry had not a heavy rain begun to fall. 
A deluge of water turned the roads into sloughs of 
mud through which no horse could travel rapidly. 
The night was dark, and the air was chill. Torrents 
of rain were falling, but the patriotic fires in the 
hearts of the devoted band were not quenched. The 
nine hundred picked riflemen started buoyantly on 
their errand to catch Ferguson. Behind them trudged 
the foot soldiers and their families. All night long 
and into the following day the storm raged in the 
forests through which they passed. Trees bent almost 
to the ground under the wind. Boughs were tossed 
to and fro, and limbs, catching hold of each other, 
creaked dismally ; the blackness of night was made 
still darker by clouds, and in the morning daylight 
was obscured by downpouring floods. Still the res- 
olute patriots pressed forward. Their only fear was 
that Ferguson might escape them. Their only anxiety 
was to keep their powder dry. Each man took care 
to shield his rifle from dampness by covering it with 
his blanket. Many of them stripped off their hunting 
shirts to wrap around the gunlocks, and left their 

*°5 



Old Tales Retold. 

shivering bodies exposed to the elements. At the 
deep ford of Broad River, which they had to cross, 
the cavalrymen held their rifles high overhead to pro- 
tect them from the splashing of the water. At the 
same time many of them were encumbered with a foot 
soldier behind, or else a woman or a child who had 
been taken up to be helped over the stream. 

As nearly every inhabitant of the country who was 
not a "king's man" had been driven away by the 
British, it was hard for the patriots to get correct in- 
formation about Ferguson's movements. Had not 
their guide, the sharp-witted scout Gilmer, been too 
shrewd to be deceived by "tricky Tories," they might 
have been misled and sent on the wrong road time and 
again by false reports. Gilmer trusted none of them, 
but by questioning them he often gained information 
while they did not suspect his object, which served to 
keep the pursuing army on the right trail. 

The scout usually rode some distance in advance, 
and when all was well he would loudly sing the old 
song "Barney Lynn." Guided by his cheery voice, 
the frontiersmen on the second day reached a point 
where various signs showed that Ferguson's army had 
recently camped. The Americans, who were by this 
time tired and hungry, thought it a good place also 
for themselves to stop and rest — that is, the soldiers 
thought so, and their immediate officers readily con- 
sented, seeing that some of the men were so exhausted 
that they had sunk in their saddles, unable to sit erect. 
The horses of others had given out completely, and 
there was not a man among them who was not 
drenched to the skin and chilled throughout. Accord- 
ingly, the captains urged the higher officers to allow 

1 06 



On to Kings Mountain. 

the men a short rest. "A slight halt," they suggested, 
"if only for half a day, will restore our worn-out com- 
panies and enable them to fight the battle." 

But the commanders were determined to push on. 
They felt sure that Ferguson was not far off. He 
must be overtaken before help reached him from Corn- 
wallis. Speaking for his own regiment, Isaac Shelby 
straightened his form to full height and said: "We 
will not stop until night, if we follow Ferguson into 
Cornwallis's lines." Campbell's answer was his gen- 
eral order to the army : "Forward, march !" 

Sevier led the way, calling aloud, "Onward, men, 
onward!" with an enthusiastic ring in his voice which 
put new life into the weary bodies of the soldiers. Fol- 
lowing briskly, they cried: "We will catch Ferguson, 
and we will whip him to boot." 

The over-mountain men were getting within reach of 
their quarry. Once they heard of Ferguson as being 
eleven miles off, then eight, and again only five. Soon 
afterwards, they came to a house on the roadside 
where they asked for information. The people within, 
being Tories, would only say: "Ferguson is not far 
off." Two of Sevier's men had gone in to question them, 
and not being able to learn anything more, they left 
the house in disappointment. They had not gone far, 
however, before they heard a woman's voice behind 
them saying softly : "How many of you poor fellows 
are there?" The kindness of her tones assured the 
soldiers that the woman who had followed them out 
sympathized with the cause of the Revolution, so one 
of the two promptly answered her, saying : "There are 
enough to whip Ferguson." And the other, with a 
questioning look, added : "That is, if we can find him 

107 



Old Tales Retold. 

— with the help of a friend?" With a nod of assent, 
the woman led the men a little apart and pointed to a 
ridge some distance off, which appeared to be about a 
mile long. ''He is on that mountain," she said briefly. 

"How far is it?" asked the eager soldiers. 

"Scarcely three miles," was the answer. "I sold 
chickens in his camp this morning. His tents are 
pitched on top of the ridge. He has fortified the place, 
and calls it King's Mountain." 

The leaders, on learning that the enemy's position 
was in sight, began a more rapid march. It was now 
noon of the third day. The clouds were parting, and 
the sun had burst forth in early October splendor. 
Nature's smiles seemed to foretell success. The pa- 
triots hastened on until they were in full view of the 
British camp. On the summit of the pine-covered 
ridge they saw high breastworks of earth and stones 
piled up in jagged walls. Behind the w r alls white 
tents and baggage wagons capped the mountain as if 
with snow, and over all floated the red flag of England. 
Here and there the glint of bayonet steel and flash of 
scarlet uniforms showed that the regulars were in 
motion, preparing for the fray. Among them the 
trained Tory bands, under Gibbs and Moore, could also 
be descried. Coming to engage them were but a few 
travel-stained backwoodsmen. Worn out with days 
and nights of almost continuous riding, they had 
paused to take breath on the hillside opposite King's 
Mountain. Though they were suffering from expos- 
ure and want of sleep, they were none the less willing 
to meet the adroit Ferguson on his own chosen ground. 
Crowded behind the mounted men were the foot sol- 
diers, and still behind were huddled the refugee fam- 

108 



On to King's Mountain. 

ilies. How the women had managed to keep up with 
the army was a mystery. It was hard to believe that 
they and the children (albeit the latter were sturdy 
urchins from the hill country) had come on foot al- 
most every step of the way. They were now watch- 
ing every movement of the troops with interest and 
listening anxiously to every word, for the fate of all 
depended on the courage and endurance of the men. 

Presently, along the lines rang the words : "Dis- 
mount ! Tie up horses to the branches of trees." Then 
in quick succession came orders to "Take off great- 
coats and blankets. Tie to your saddles. Throw 
priming out of pans. Each man prime anew. Ex- 
amine bullets and see that everything is in readiness 
for battle." 

Campbell waved his hand toward the "Redcoats," 
calling out : "Here they are ! Now do your duty, my 
brave men." Cleveland likewise pointed to the moun- 
tain as he rode up and down his ranks, saying: 
"Yonder is your enemy, and the enemy of mankind. 
Now is the time for you to do your country a price- 
less service." 

Shelby, ever calmly stern, gave grim instructions to 
his men. "Never shoot," said he, "until you see an 
enemy's eyes, and never see an enemy without bringing 
him down." Sevier's speeches to his men were short. 
Following him they had never known defeat, and they 
thought only of victory. They had caught Ferguson ; 
the next thing was to whip him. Campbell gave the 
order to advance. The tall, sinewy frontiersmen 
marched at his command to the base of the mountain. 
Here they paused and separated. One half of the 
army turned to the right, led by Sevier and Campbell ; 

109 



Old Tales Retold. 

the other half, under Cleveland and Shelby, went to 
the left. Swiftly and noiselessly the drenched and 
bedraggled backwoodsmen stole around the ridge in 
Indian file, completely encircling its base. The heads 
of the two columns had come within view of each 
other and the coil was thrown fully around Fergu- 
son's post before the silence was broken. ''Halt, and 
face the mountain !" was the first word of command. 
Hardly was the order carried out before the long, loud 
roll of the British drums pealed forth overhead. The 
sound was instantly followed by a volley of musketry 
and a patter of English bullets through the trees. This 
was the signal for the patriots to begin climbing the 
mountain on all sides at once. 

Shelby bade his men not to return the fire that fell 
upon them while they were struggling through a rough 
ravine. "Press on to your places at the top," he ex- 
horted, "and your bullets will not be wasted." Oppo- 
site Shelby, on the steep slope of the other side of the 
ridge, Campbell's men climbed painfully and perilously 
upward. As they had to grasp shrubs and roots to aid 
them in the ascent, their hands were not free to shoot. 
Cleveland was making his way slowly to the top over 
at the eastern end of the mountain. "A little nearer, 
my brave men," he urged persuasively. "We have 
beaten the Tories, and we can beat them again." 

Meantime Sevier's men, already halfway up the 
hill, had found a gap through which they pressed to- 
ward the enemy's center. Leading the way himself, 
with the excitement of battle lighting his eyes, Sevier 
called back confidently: "Come on and whip Fergu- 
son." 

Presently the whole patriot force had reached the 

no 



On to King's Mountain. 



£> 



top, and Ferguson was closely encompassed by those 
he had scornfully termed "the dregs of mankind." At 
sight of the untrained soldiery for whom he felt only 
contempt, the colonel of the British line hurled fresh 
insults at them and shouted blasphemous orders to his 
own men by turns. It was while he was trying to im- 
press his scarlet-coated regulars with the belief that 
their foes were hardly worth their notice that the "Tall 
Watauga Boys" raised a shout. It was the mountain 
battle cry which has since become famous as the "Ten- 
nessee yell," and was caught up in succession by Shel- 
by's, Campbell's, McDowell's, and Cleveland's men 
with a vigor that sent a tremor down Ferguson's line, 
unnerving the British soldiers as if it had been a blast 
from the trumpets of Gideon's band. Even Major 
De Peyster, their second in command, was struck by 
despair in hearing the shout, and exclaimed: "These 
are those yelling woodsmen. Everything goes down 
before them." 

Not so, Colonel Ferguson. With pride stung to the 
quick, he tore up and down his ranks on horseback, 
swearing at his men, shaming them, and abusing them 
for cowardice. By dint of his efforts they took heart 
again, and the fight began in earnest. 

Near the center, Sevier's mountaineers had sprung 
to the barricades and thrust their guns over the top- 
most stones. "Single out your men, take aim, and 
fire," cried their leader, and instantly with the sharp 
crack of backwoods rifles a path was mowed through 
the thick of the British ranks. The closely massed 
Tories there formed a broad target for picked rifle- 
men. In vain De Peyster came with a charge of bay- 
onets against the men behind the wall. Out of one 

in 



Old Tales Retold. 

hundred soldiers led by him to the barricades only 
twelve escaped the bullets of the Watauga boys. 

Ferguson saw the danger. Summoning his cavalry 
by a blast on his silver whistle, he hurried with them 
to charge the dangerous marksmen. This was only 
to offer to their skill an easier mark. As fast as the 
horsemen approached they were dispatched by the 
sharpshooters. Ferguson himself was almost the only 
one unhurt when he abandoned the attempt to dislodge 
Sevier, and turned his attention elsewhere. 

By this time Campbell, having gained the top of 
the hill, spurred forward, waving his ancestral clay- 
more of the Argyles above his head as he cried : "Here 
they are, my brave boys ! Shout like wild beasts, and 
fight like men!" a conspicuous evidence of courage 
which brought the infuriated Ferguson on him in 
person. The British commander massed his Redcoats 
in Campbell's path. With the order to charge bay- 
onets he advanced and pressed the Americans back- 
ward down the hill. Shelby's and Cleveland's men, 
coming up from the opposite side and seeing the backs 
of the Redcoats turned toward themselves, thought 
their foes were running. "They are retreating ! The 
enemy are retreating!" shouted the deceived Amer- 
icans, as they rushed after them in pursuit. 

Attacked at the same time in front and rear, Fer- 
guson turned to face first one foe and then the other, 
as would any maddened creature when encircled by 
angry hornets. When the British whirled about to 
fight Shelby and Cleveland, Campbell's men followed 
after, hurrying them uphill with a hot fire behind 
them. Thus Shelby's men were driven ahead of the 
enemy across the ridge and quite down to the bottom 

I 12 



On to King's Mountain. 

on the other side. Cleveland, who had got in behind 
the British, followed with Campbell hard behind Fer- 
guson's men. 

In the confusion, lines became so mixed that the 
soldiers could hardly tell who were friends or foes on 
either side. A wreath of smoke hung around the 
summit of the mountain. Along its sides smoke gath- 
ered in billows which were rent with flashes of fire 
that revealed here and there where the troops of 
Cleveland, Campbell, Shelby, and McDowell were 
struggling with the enemy. 

In the thick of the fight, near the foot of the hill, 
stood Campbell, halfway between the head of his col- 
umn and the British, shouting to his men : "Now, 
boys, reload, and give them another fire!" Warmly 
he implores them to remember their homes and rally 
to the charge. But they appear not to hear his en- 
treaties. They are deaf, as it seems, to his commands. 
Their limbs seem palsied by a shout that reaches them 
from the British lines. Again they hear the exultant 
cry of their enemies as they call out: "Tarletan and 
his legion are coming !" If this be true, if the cruel 
Tarletan, who shows no mercy, gives no quarter, and 
loses no battles, is near, then farewell to hope. In 
their dread of such a mischance the patriots lose con- 
fidence. They are beginning to waver. It is useless 
for Campbell to exhort them, saying : "Come on ! An- 
other gun will do it !" "Tarletan and his legion are 
coining!" rings out again. The bare idea of fresh 
troops arriving to aid the enemy unnerves the hands of 
the patriots. Although their leader's voice rises above 
the crash and din of battle in ceaseless efforts to rally 
his men, they do not move, and Campbell is in despair. 
8 113 



Old Tales Retold. 

But Sevier has also heard the British cry, and knows 
its full meaning. He realizes that a break in one part 
of the field will bring defeat at every point. Almost 
with the thought he is at Campbell's side, bringing 
half of his own men with him. The sight of one 
who always claims victory is good for the panic-strick- 
en troops. When the British cry again, "Tarletan is 
coming !" Sevier has only to say, "Let them come on, 
my men, Gibbs and Moore and their Tories, and Tarle- 
tan and his dragoons to boot," to calm their excited 
minds. And when he further reasons with them, 
saying, "One more charge will finish Ferguson, and 
then we will finish Tarletan and his Tories," he is an- 
swered from the ranks with cheers. The words of 
a man who has fought a hundred battles and never 
yet been defeated carry peculiar weight. As if in- 
spired by him with the spirit of victory, the patriots 
leaped forward and pushed the British before them. 
The sudden onset was irresistible. When the Red- 
coats faltered under its fury, all the Americans be- 
gan to close in around them at once. Bullets from 
the Hornets' Nest were stinging Ferguson's ranks on 
every side. The narrowing circle of marksmen was 
finally drawn so close about the British that the mis- 
siles flying from this side and that crossed each other 
in the air. Ferguson himself was in instant peril as 
he dashed from end to end of his lines, shouting and 
sounding his shrill whistle to stimulate or direct his 
men. Though he found himself completely hemmed 
in, he declared there should be no surrender as long 
as he lived. With his own hands he tore down the 
white flag which the Tories had raised a moment be- 
fore. Scarcely had it been lowered before another 

114 



On to Kings Mountain. 

white signal was fluttering from a pole at the other 
end of the line. Spurring his horse to the spot, Colo- 
nel Ferguson hacked the staff in two with his sword, 
exclaiming as he did so : "I will never surrender to 
a lot of banditti." 

Though De Peyster represented to his chief that 
• they could hold out no longer, Ferguson swore he 
would not yield. He would not yield, but he had 
despaired of success. It was impossible, perhaps, to 
save his army, but it might be that by flight he could 
avoid for himself the shame of surrendering to the 
backwoods leaders. With sudden resolve, the Brit- 
ish commander whirled his horse and, riding toward 
the thinnest part of the American lines, made a dash 
for escape. Boldly he cut his way, hacking right and 
left, until his sword was broken and fell, useless, 
from his hand. 

It was so quickly done that no one suspected his 
purpose. He was almost free, when the cry, "Look 
out for Ferguson!" was raised. The fugitive was 
headed off barely in time. Turned back on one side 
and another, the baffled officer, by ill luck, sprang to- 
ward Sevier's riflemen. Gilliland, the first one he 
passed, would have brought him down had he been 
able with his wounded arm to lift his gun. Being un- 
able to shoot, he could only raise the alarm by crying : 
"There he goes ! There's Ferguson ! Shoot him, Rob- 
ert Young !" 

Not waiting on Robert Young, Darling Jones, an- 
other Wataugan, sighted along his rifle and fired, as 
he drawled out: "I'll see what 'Sweet Lips' can do." 
The bullet that killed Patrick Ferguson, Colonel of 
the Seventy-First Regiment of the British infantry, 

IJ 5 



Old Tales Retold, 

went singing out of an old musket from the Hornets' 
Nest. The enemy of freedom fell dead, and the king's 
cause was touched in a vital spot. 

Rounds of cheers from free throats told the friends 
over there on the opposite hill that the patriots had 
won. From their triumphant cries the Tories learned 
that all was over for them. The white flag was up 
again, and De Peyster was asking for quarter. It 
was a complete victory which the frontiersmen, de- 
spised by Ferguson, had won over his regular troops 
and well-trained Tories on King's Mountain; but the 
fruits of the victory were yet to be secured. 

"Close up and surround the enemy," ordered Colo- 
nel Campbell. The various regiments promptly 
obeyed. "Double guard !" he cried, and his men stood 
four deep around their prisoners. To the latter, 
crowded together in the center, Campbell called in a 
loud voice, saying: "Lay down your arms!" With 
a clang, seven hundred muskets rattled to the ground. 
Then Campbell's battle-stained face shone with en- 
thusiasm as he faced his ranks and cried: "Three 
huzzas for liberty !" A notable shout rang around the 
mountain in response, a sound at which the women, 
listening on the hillside, wept for joy. 

While cries of triumph were still in the air, it was 
discovered that there were more prisoners than there 
were patriots to hold them. At the same time an offi- 
cer suggested that they had "only to seize their guns 
and fight the battle over again," if reinforcements 
should even now arrive. In consequence of such an 
apprehension the prisoners were at once ordered away 
from their arms, of which the Americans took prompt 
possession. 

116 



On to Kings Mountain. 

The last shot had been fired on King's Mountain. 
The battle was over. Night was coming on, and it 
was turning cold. The chill air began to stiffen the 
limbs of the tired victors. Before they could realize 
their own happy feelings their eyes grew heavy with 
sleep and many of them dropped to the ground where 
they were, to take their rest on the battlefield. There 
they slept all night, almost as quietly as the dead 
around them. A small party of foot soldiers, however, 
preferred not to remain with the rest. They started 
wearily to walk over to the hillside beyond, to join 
their waiting families. 

Whether or not they would be recognized, with 
their smoke-blackened faces, tumbled hair, and ban- 
daged limbs, was doubtful. So thought Joseph Hern- 
don, whose head was bound in a handkerchief, and 
who was further disguised by having his face dark 
with powder burns, and his eyebrows singed off. In 
the midst of his cogitations he saw two little boys 
coming toward him down the hill. In all innocence, 
the elder of the two asked him : "Have you seen our 
daddy?" 

A humorous smile played over Herndon's mouth. 
"What is his name ?" he asked of the child. 

"His name is Joseph Herndon, sir, and our mother 
has sent us to hunt for him." 

"Why, don't you know your old daddy?" cried the 
father, as he strained both little fellows to his breast. 

In glad reunions like this, or else in heavy sleep, 
the rank and file passed the night after the battle; 
but not so with the officers. In spite of pain and 
fatigue, they watched and waited all night for the 
coming of Tarletan's legion. If it, all fresh and 

117 



Old Tales Retold. 

strong, should fall upon their exhausted little band, 
what then ? 

Amid anxious thought and great bodily suffering 
the long night passed at last. And with the rising of 
a brilliant sun rose hope and courage. Col. John 
Sevier, buoyant as usual, rode among his men cheer- 
ing them and praising them for the victory they had 
won the day before. And referring to the future he 
said : "The tide will turn from this hour, in favor of 
the Americans." 

His prediction was verified by after events. From 
the date of the battle of King's Mountain the Amer- 
ican cause was successful. One victory followed an- 
other in various parts of the country until the final 
triumph at Yorktown set our forefathers free. Long 
before that happy day the North Carolina refugees 
had been restored to peaceful possession of their farms 
and dwellings, and the Hornets' Nest beyond the 
mountain had been rid forever of meddling foreigners. 

118 



X. 

A FAMOUS RESCUE.* 

It was almost past belief that John Sevier had 
been handcuffed and thrown in prison. Yet it was 
true that the hero of King's Mountain, and of a hun- 
dred battles besides, had spent the night in chains, con- 
fined in a house near Jonesboro, in the Watauga settle- 
ment. At sunrise he was on his way across the moun- 
tain to Morganton, N. C, under guard of State offi- 
cers, to be tried for high treason. And what was his 
crime? Only that he had loved too well the over- 
mountain land that afterwards came to be called Ten- 
nessee. 

The chivalrous Sevier had devoted his life to the 
pioneers who lived on the Watauga and Nolli- 
chucky Rivers and in Carter's Valley. He had stood 
between them and British oppression with both his 
sword and his pen ; and by his daring exploits in fight- 
ing the Indians he had kept the whole people safe 
from danger of massacre through many a year. It 
was Sevier who helped to frame the simple, yet almost 
perfect, laws by which the frontier settlers had ruled 

*There is a later version of this incident, so far as it re- 
lates to the scenes at Morganton, in which some of the details 
here narrated have been proved (through the painstaking re- 
search of Judge John Allison) to be incorrect. But this is 
the old tale as told around the firesides of our forefathers and 
as it is set down in all the earliest histories of Tennessee. 

119 



01& Tales Retold. 

themselves, long before North Carolina had reached 
out a hand either to claim or to protect them. It was 
Sevier who, at the very beginning of the American 
Revolution, begged North Carolina to allow his peo- 
ple to join in the fight for American independence, 
saying in his appeal to the mother State: "Annex us 
to North Carolina in such manner as may enable us 
to share in the glorious cause of liberty." Again it 
was Sevier who befriended the over-mountain men 
when they were cast off and neglected by North Car- 
olina after they had saved the Revolutionary cause at 
King's Mountain. 

At that time there was special need of strong, good 
government in the settlements west of the Unaka 
Range. Yet that borderland had been abandoned not 
only by the parent State, but also by the Government 
at Washington, and left to stand alone without repre- 
sentation in any body of legislators. In their isolation 
the forsaken people of the wilderness thought it no 
harm to set up a State of their own, which they called 
Franklin, in honor of the great philosopher of that 
name. Sevier was entreated by them to become the 
Governor of Franklin, and he yielded to the wishes of 
his people. Herein lay his whole offense against 
North Carolina. The pardonable fault was made 
much of by an enemy who had long sought to injure 
Sevier. 

Though the State of Franklin soon fell to pieces and 
the country came again under the rule of North Car- 
olina, the Governor of Franklin was called to account. 
Sevier's old foe prevailed on Governor Johnston, of 
North Carolina, to have a bench warrant issued for 
his arrest on July 29, 1788. 

120 



A Famous Rescue. 

It was on that warrant that Sevier had been appre- 
hended and was being conducted to Morganton for 
trial. But where John Sevier had one enemy he had 
a host of friends. The soldierly pioneers, as a rule, 
were ready, if necessary, to die for their idolized lead- 
er. A party of his devoted admirers, on hearing of 
his arrest, resolved to be present at his trial. Less 
than half a day's journey behind the distinguished 
prisoner, they also were riding toward Morganton. 
The faces of the horsemen were grave ; and the eyes 
of James Cosby and Nathaniel Evans, the two who 
rode in front, were full of purpose. All looked like 
men bent on a desperate enterprise. Only now and 
then were their set features relaxed to smiles, as one 
or another of them would reach out a weather-beaten 
hand to pat affectionately Sevier's thoroughbred horse, 
which was being led in their midst. They could not 
but fondle the noble animal which was as fleet of foot 
and as obedient to his master's voice as the steed of 
an Arab sheik. Besides, the horse was in their confi- 
dence, as they believed. The intelligent beast seemed 
to know why he was following hard on Sevier's trail. 

On arriving at Morganton the animal was tied to 
a tree in front of the courthouse door, where Sevier, 
glancing out, saw his favorite mount, and guessed why 
he was there. In the meantime his backwoods friends 
had come in and seated themselves in the courthouse 
to hear the proceedings. There was no chance for 
him to be cleared. Of this John Sevier was sure. In 
the eyes of the law he was guilty of treason. In the 
hearts of the people he was a patriot and a hero. 

Everything was going against the prisoner when, 
in the midst of the trial, Cosby strode forward up the 

121 



Old Tales Retold. 

aisle and faced the judge on the bench. "Are you 
done with this man?" he demanded in a loud voice, 
pointing to Sevier. Never was a court room thrown 
into worse confusion. The judge changed color with 
anger and surprise, the officers of the court hurried 
to his side, while the crowd in attendance began talk- 
ing, shouting, and gesticulating. In the midst of the 
tumult Sevier had received a signal from Cosby's 
eye. Taking advantage of his opportunity, the pris- 
oner made a dash for the door, sprang on his horse, 
and was off for the border before he was missed. 
His friends quickly followed, clattering up the stony 
mountain road, and all were out of sight by the time 
the officers of the court had collected their wits again. 
Sevier was soon safe among his followers in his over- 
mountain haunts. No man dared afterwards to rearrest 
him. The people among whom he lived had become 
aroused, and it was not safe to go counter to their feel- 
ings. They proved their faithfulness to John Sevier 
by electing him to the best offices in their gift, over 
the head of his ancient enemy. He was made Brig- 
adier General of the Western Counties, and in course 
of time became the first Governor of Tennessee. 

122 



XL 

THE BATTLE OF THE BLUFFS. 

"Caesar, stop the noise of those dogs !" called 
Mistress Charlotte Robertson from her cabin door in 
the stockade. It was in those long-ago times when 
Nashville was only a log fort, inclosing within its 
palisaded walls the simple homes of a dozen or more 
pioneer families on the bluffs of the Cumberland. 

"I can't stop 'em, Mist'ess," replied little black 
Caesar dolefully, with a troubled look toward the ken- 
nels, "dey hears sump'n." 

The unusual behavior of the dogs was disquieting 
to Caesar's mistress, the wife of Capt. James Rob- 
ertson, the head man of the Cumberland settlement. 
All that morning of April 2, 1781, to her discomfort, 
she had noticed that the trained bloodhounds of the 
fort, that were well able to scent an Indian two miles 
away, had been restless. For hours past they had been 
whining at intervals and lifting their noses as if on the 
scent of "redskins," although at that time there was 
no reason to believe that there was an Indian within 
a hundred miles of the place. It had certainly been 
months since any of the far-away Chickamaugas from 
Lookout Mountain or parties of Creeks from Georgia 
had ventured close to the fort at the Bluffs. These 
were the nearest Indian inhabitants except the friendly 
Chickasaws, west of the Tennessee River, whose war- 
riors visited the stockade only at rare intervals, and al- 
ways on errands of peace. 

123 



Old Tales Retold. 

Although the settlers had suffered greatly from sav- 
ages soon after they arrived in the Cumberland coun- 
try, they had now been for some time undisturbed. 
Feeling almost safe from Indian attacks of late, they 
used less and less precaution against surprise, and 
worked outside the walls without fear. In the fields 
they no longer, as at first, watched on all sides and no 
longer made it a rule to take their noonday rest sitting 
back to back, in order to guard against danger from 
every quarter at once. 

The brave, hopeful spirit of the people increased as 
the spring advanced. The past winter had been hard 
from scarcity of bread; but summer was near, with 
promise of abundance, and April's soft breezes and 
blue sky, with the grass springing everywhere, made 
those light-hearted folks so happy that they forgot to 
borrow trouble. So it was that in the early morning 
of that fair spring day all the men in the fort had gone 
out in fine spirits to labor on their various farms. In 
every direction, plows were furrowing the soil. The 
smell of freshly turned earth mingled sweetly with the 
odor of wild grape blooms from the adjoining forests. 
Everything seemed to foretell peace and plenty. 

Captain Robertson, among others, had hurried off at 
break of day to his fields on Richland Creek in the 
bend of the river (now West Nashville). Not a man 
or boy large enough to work was left at the fort except 
Captain Robertson's young son, Jonathan, who had 
gone hunting on the cedar-covered "knob" (our pres- 
ent capitol hill), just west of the stockade. Never was 
there less expectation of a day of bloodshed. Only the 
lad's mother was sad with a sense of coming evil. 
Though fully occupied with the younger children, 

124 



The Battle of the Bluffs. 

especially her infant Felix (the first white child born 
on the site of Nashville), she gave many an anxious 
thought to her eldest boy during the morning. She 
shuddered to think of the dreadful things that might 
happen to the lad if Indians should find him wandering 
about the hill all alone. The whining of the hounds 
would not let her rest, and at length when the whole 
pack broke into a loud, dismal howl she sprang to 
her feet, thoroughly frightened. Out to the palisade 
wall she ran, and pressed her face to the pickets, peer- 
ing through the cracks for a glimpse of the knob. 
Not satisfied with the narrow view she had of the dark 
pyramid of cedars in the west, she darted to where a 
ladder was fastened against the wall and, to the as- 
tonishment of the other women in the fort, climbed 
rapidly to the "lookout" above the gateway. From 
the open sides she turned a searching gaze in all direc- 
tions. Not a sign of danger anywhere. There seemed 
nothing unusual about the knob, though she could not 
see much of its stony surface for the evergreens that 
clothed its southern and eastern slopes. Elsewhere 
around the fort the earth was almost hidden by newly 
budding trees and shrubs or covered with canebrakes. 
The only cleared space in sight was an opening about 
the Big French Salt Lick (sulphur spring), where lay 
abandoned fields that the pioneers had cultivated dur- 
ing only one season ; for June floods had swept away 
their entire crop of corn in the past year, and they 
had this year cleared new fields, not subject to over- 
flow, far out from the fort. "O, so far out!" sighed 
the anxious mother in the watch tower, reflecting that 
in case of danger help was miles away. Again she 
looked searchingly toward the knob. Presently she 

125 



Old Tales Retold. 

saw what made her sick with apprehension. In full 
view on a ledge of rock which projected from the 
hillside were three Indians in war paint. One of the 
savages was flourishing aloft a newly taken human 
scalp, while the others capered around him. 

There was no room for doubt in the poor mother's 
mind that the bleeding lock had been taken from the 
head of her beloved son.' Faint with the shock and 
the anguish of her great fear, she reeled as if about 
to fall. But the nerve of a pioneer held her upright. 
By strong force of will power the dizzy brain was 
steadied and the scattered senses recalled to serve 
her in this trying hour. There was work to be done, 
quick work, to save, if possible, her remaining children, 
and with them the entire settlement. No time must be 
lost in lamentations. The brave little mother has- 
tened down the ladder. She was soon surrounded by 
women who listened, wide-eyed and with blanched 
faces, to her tale of horror. Her own courage mount- 
ing higher as their terror grew, she said : "By some 
means we must get word to the men to prepare for 
an Indian attack. I see no other way than to go 
myself." Almost in the same breath she hurried 
Caesar off to the stables, saying : "Go bring me a horse. 
Saddle him at once. Be quick !" And while she 
waited, the time was spent in encouraging her com- 
panions to guard the fort in her absence. "Barricade 
as well as you can," she said, "and hold out until help 
comes." On Caesar's return he was told by his mis- 
tress to "get a gun and plenty of powder, and come 
with me." 

She tenderly embraced her children at parting, and 
saying to her friends, "I leave my little children with 

126 



The Battle of the Bluffs. 

you and God," she mounted for her perilous ride, with 
Caesar behind her on the horse and little Felix in her 
lap, for indeed she could not leave the baby. The 
gates were held open for the three strange riders to 
go through. They closed with a quick clang as the 
frightened women left inside drew the heavy iron 
chains to make them fast. 

Outside the gates Mistress Charlotte needed all her 
courage and plenty of caution besides to carry her 
safely through her undertaking. Indians were un- 
doubtedly lurking near the fort. To avoid being seen 
by them, it was necessary to skirt the base of the hill 
slowly under cover of the trees. Now and then there 
must be a pause to look and listen. Caesar too was 
watchful and ready, quick as a wink, to hand his 
mistress the loaded gun if she should need it. All 
this while the baby, God bless him ! did not cry. 

At last they reached a point where it was safe to 
hurry. With one arm Mistress Robertson frantically 
shook loose the bridle reins, while with the other she 
tightly held the baby as the horse fairly flew over the 
space between the hill and the Richland Creek farm. 
The laborers in the field heard the clatter of hoofs. 
They looked up, and there came a horse carrying three, 
full tilt. A woman's voice was heard screaming : "In- 
dians ! Indians ! They are about the fort !" 

The men dropped the plow lines where they stood, 
reached for their guns, and leaped upon their horses. 
Plying whip and spur, they galloped away to the fort, 
hallooing along the way : "Indians at the Bluff ! In- 
dians !" The alarm was given far and near. In a 
wonderfully short time nineteen soldier farmers had 
reached the fort. They set to work at once to scour 

127 



Old Tales Retold. 

the woods around them, looking for "Indian signs." 
By the time they returned from the search to report 
that not a trace of the savages could be found Mrs. 
Robertson with the baby and little black Caesar were 
again safely inside the gates. Not only had the men 
failed to find the savages, but they had seen nothing of 
the missing lad in their hasty search. They had as- 
sembled in front of the fort, at a spot which is now 
near the foot of Church Street, and in grave per- 
plexity were talking over the matter when one of their 
number, James Manifee, lightly touched Robertson's 
arm as he said: "Look across the branch, Captain." 
Barely showing above a thicket of shrubs and cane 
along the stream since known as Wilson's Branch 
bristled a row of eagle feathers. That they were 
sticking straight up from the scalp locks of Indian 
warriors was easy to guess. If there was any doubt 
on the subject, it was quickly settled when the eagle 
tails suddenly shot up from the thicket, and with each 
bunch of feathers rose an Indian brave. The red- 
skins leaped the water, and came bounding toward 
the white men. 

The whites waited only long enough to tie their 
horses to saplings before they started out on foot 
after the Indians and ran them back into the thicket. 
This was precisely what the cunning red men wanted. 
No sooner had the feet of the white men touched the 
border of the stream than a series of sharp whoops 
behind them caused them to look around. Between 
themselves and the fort they saw hundreds of In- 
dians running down a course that is now Church 
Street, and forming as they ran in a long half moon 
curve that extended almost to the river at each end. 

128 



The Battle of the Bluffs. 

"They have decoyed us into an ambush," called out 
Manifee. In truth the pioneers were almost sur- 
rounded by the savages, and completely cut off from 
the fort. The only way they saw open was toward 
the river. Seeing their desperate situation, Captain 
Robertson said : "We must fight it out here, or else 
fight our way out of here." The latter was what they 
wished to do, if possible. Each man's effort was to 
break through the Indian line and get to the fort. 
But the line was getting more compact as the wide 
half moon began closing in around them. By fre- 
quent adroit changes of position the savages kept them 
away from the stockade and pushed them nearer to the 
river. Fighting hard, the men were forced down the 
hill, and yet down, until they were hemmed in on the 
edge of the steep bluffs that overhang the river. The 
valiant nineteen there made a desperate struggle, grap- 
pling with Indians in places where a foothold could 
scarcely be found. Their chance for escape was small 
between the dangers of butchery on one hand and 
drowning on the other. Sometimes they were fortu- 
nate enough to find a hiding place behind great 
bowlders of stone or the bushy cedars that grew among 
the rocks. From these they fired at the foremost In- 
dians and so managed to keep the enemy at bay for 
a while. Often they had to catch hold of shrubs or 
cling to projections of the bluff to keep from falling 
into the Cumberland as they fought. At one time 
John Buchanan was doing great service with his gun 
from a sheltered nook where, as he thought, his head 
was screened by a shelving rock. From this secure 
position he picked off his enemies unseen. Several 
Indians had already dropped before his weapon and 

9 I2 9 



Old Tales Retold. 

he was loading to fire again, not suspecting that a 
feathered head was at that moment being poked cau- 
tiously over the ledge above him; nor did he see the 
downward-pointed gun. But something impelled him 
to look up. He was just in time to save his own life 
by shooting the Indian who was reaching down to 
kill him. 

And here was Manifee with blazing dark eyes, in 
hot chase after two redskins who bounded down the 
bank straight toward Buchanan's hiding place. Buch- 
anan's rifle stopped one of them, while Manifee fol- 
lowed the other and put him to death near the water's 
edge. The struggle went on in the same way all along 
the bluff. Yet fight as bravely as they would, the sit- 
uation of the pioneer soldiers was growing more se- 
rious every minute. It seemed as if nothing could 
save them. 

In this crisis the same brave little woman who had 
warned them of the danger was watching the battle 
from the "lookout" above the gate. There she stood, 
gun in hand, ready to help, should help be needed. 
Now was the time, if ever, to be of use. The scat- 
tered Indians were re-forming their broken line for a 
concerted attack on the whites. By force of numbers 
they would certainly either kill every white man or 
else push him into the river. Something must be 
done to call off the savages. Csesar stood below, ready 
to do Mrs. Robertson's bidding. At a word from his 
mistress the boy loosed the bloodhounds, slightly 
opened the gates, and let the dogs slip through. With 
a loud, dismaying howl the pack bounded from the 
stockade. Snuffing the Indian-tainted air, they made 
for the red line that hemmed in the white men. They 

130 



The Battle of the Bluffs. 

rushed toward their prey, barking so furiously that the 
horses which had been tied to the trees at the begin- 
ning of the battle were frightened by the noise. Al- 
ready excited by the sounds of the fight, the horses 
now became panic-stricken, broke their fastenings, 
and started off in a stampede. You may remember 
that if there is one thing an Indian values above an- 
other it is horseflesh. The warriors had counted on 
capturing the good, fast horses of the pioneers; so 
when they saw their four-footed prizes about to get 
away they could hardly go on fighting, though the 
dogs were at their throats. Their roving glances 
turned now and again to keep watch on the horses, 
lest they escape altogether. One warrior in particular, 
near the center of the half moon, could not withhold 
his covetous eyes. It was not in his Indian nature to 
let such booty go. His feathered head had whirled for 
one more look. The horses seemed in the act of get- 
ting off. The temptation was too great. The warrior 
left his place and ran after the scampering beasts. His 
example was followed by others, and still others, until 
a wide gap was left in the line. The Indians who re- 
mained faithful to their post were too busy beating 
off the dogs to attend to their human enemies. 

Manifee, quick to see the opportunity thus af- 
forded, called to his comrades : "Run for your lives ! 
Get to the fort while you may !" A rush for the gate, 
through the opening in the Indian ranks, followed. 
Several of the pioneers succeeded in getting in with- 
out a scratch. But the brave soldiers Captain Leiper, 
Alexander Buchanan, Peter Sill, George Kennedy, and 
Zachariah White were killed, and two or three others 
were wounded, among whom were James Manifee 

T 3* 



Old Tales Retold. 

and Joseph Moonshaw. Another of the wounded was 
Isaac Lucas. He had nearly reached the fort (near 
where Church and Cherry Streets now cross) when a 
ball broke his leg and threw him to the ground in the 
path of his enemies. On the instant a scalping knife 
was flourished above his head, but the wounded man 
fired his gun, and by killing the Indian saved his own 
life. Lucas's danger did not end here, however. One 
warrior after another stood over him to kill him where 
he lay helpless. But the pioneers in the fort were 
zealously guarding the spot, and as often as a war- 
rior reached him the sharpshooters would bring him 
down with well-aimed fire through the portholes. In 
this way they kept Lucas safe until he could be reached 
and brought inside. 

Still nearer death was Edward Swanson. His gun 
was gone, and an Indian who appeared to be about the 
size of Goliath was after him. At the moment when 
his empty hands were outstretched to touch the gate 
he had so nearly reached, the Indian overtook him. 
Pushing the muzzle of his gun into Swanson's side, he 
pulled the trigger. By good fortune the gun merely 
snapped. Quick as thought Swanson laid hold of the 
barrel (being a Samson in strength himself), twisted 
the lock to one side, and spilled out the priming from 
the pan. The Indian grunted in disgust as he jerked 
his weapon away and struck Swanson a blow with the 
butt end of it that brought him to the ground. The 
white man was completely at the mercy of the sav- 
age when John Buchanan came to the rescue with his 
gun, the same blunderbuss which afterwards saved 
the day in another fort. "Take that!" he cried, and 
fired, evidently wounding the Indian, who at once ran 

132 



The Battle of the Bluffs. 

off, leaving a trail of blood behind. "The rascal came 
near getting you," said Buchanan, as he helped Swan- 
son into the stockade. 

The last of the living white men had been helped 
inside, and those who were still able to fight were at 
the portholes. They kept up such a hot fire from their 
sheltered position that the savages soon left, though 
not before they had captured the nineteen good horses, 
which they took with them when they finally dis- 
appeared. 

After their enemies were well out of sight, the 
pioneers performed the sad duty of burying their dead ; 
then followed a renewed search for young Jonathan 
Robertson. The boy's mother, at the head of the 
searching party, was the first to notice a strange-look- 
ing object creeping, unable to walk, among the cedars. 
"I see him !" she cried. "I see him ! It is my son, and 
he is alive!" 

The savages had left the lad for dead on the hill, 
but he had in reality only fainted from the pain of 
being scalped. Becoming conscious again after a 
great while, he had tried to make his way back to the 
fort. It was while in the torture of this effort that he 
was found by his friends and tenderly carried home 
to be nursed back to health and strength by the good 
mother whose heroism had saved his life and kept the 
whole settlement from bein^ destroved. 

*33 



XII. 
THE SQUAW'S PROPHECY. 

A broad flatboat, surmounted by a roughly made 
cabin, was being steered down the Tennessee River 
in the spring of 1788. The deck of the queer-looking 
craft was guarded by a close railing, which was 
pierced at intervals with portholes. A small swivel 
gun was mounted in the stern, and the crew who plied 
the oars and managed the rudder were stalwart, armed 
men. 

Yet despite their warlike appearance the vessel was 
enlivened by the merry laughter of children, the low- 
ing of milch cows, the crowing of fowls, and other 
cheerful domestic sounds which indicated that it was, 
at least for the time being, the home of a family party. 
The owner of the house boat, Col. William Brown, of 
North Carolina, had fought under "Light Horse Har- 
ry" Lee in the Revolutionary struggle for independ- 
ence, and when the war was over his grateful State 
had rewarded him with the grant of a large tract of 
land situated in the unsettled country west of the 
Cumberland Mountains. In order to gain actual pos- 
session of the domain, he resolved to take the risk of 
moving with his family to his estate in the wilder- 
ness, choosing his route by way of the rivers. He 
embarked for the journey at Fort Patrick Henry on 
the 4th of May with his wife, two grown sons (James 
and John), and five younger children, together with 

134 



The Squazv's Prophecy. 

his servants and his cattle, and all his household goods. 
Besides his own family there were five young men, 
John and William Gentry, John Griffin, William Flood, 
and J. Bays, who had asked to be allowed to go along, 
as they wanted a chance to try their fortunes in the 
new West. 

On the ninth day of the voyage, after they had 
glided down the Holston into the broader current of 
the Tennessee and had shot through the "Narrows" 
where the stream made much ado in passing between 
two mountains, and had left the swirling waters of 
the "Skillet" and the "Boiling Pot" behind, they began 
to look out for another kind of danger, for the stream 
here ran through the country in which the Chickamau- 
gas from near Lookout Mountain had built several 
towns on the banks of the river. It was well known 
that the Chickamaugas w r ere a lawless people, even 
among Indians. The anxiety of the grown people 
w r as not shared by the children, who were enjoying the 
trip as a delightful adventure. Led by Joseph, the 
eldest, who was barely fifteen years of age, the five 
little folks penetrated to every part of the vessel, 
showing a never-wearying interest in all they saw. 
The curious, tiny rooms of the cabin, the swivel can- 
non in the stern (which could be turned up or down 
or to either side on its pivot), and the portholes 
through which they peeped to see the hurrying waves 
running away from the boat, all these possessed a 
fascinating charm for the small Carolinians, who had 
never before journeyed by water. It was only an- 
other pleasant excitement to them when one morning 
about daybreak everybody on board was roused by 
John Griffin, who was at the helm, calling out that the 

J 35 



Old Tales Retold. 

boat was nearing an Indian village. Soon afterwards 
Tuskigagee (Running Water) was sighted. Here 
lived a band of those bad Indians who, while they 
claimed to be Chickamaugas, and, as such, members 
of the Cherokee Nation, were in reality the refuse of 
several tribes mingled with a number of white out- 
laws from the pioneer settlements who had banded 
together in the secret places of the mountain country 
to hide from just punishment for their crimes. In 
fear of attack, Colonel Brown kept close watch of the 
shores as he neared Tuskigagee, and the younger men 
held themselves in readiness to defend the boat. None 
of them were surprised when presently they saw a 
canoe put off from shore and come straight up the 
current toward them. One of the four men who pad- 
dled the canoe was evidently a chief. Another of 
them was a half-breed who spoke English. As soon 
as he came within talking distance, he hailed the peo- 
ple on the boat as "white brothers," declaring to them 
that the Indians wished to treat them as friends. "Let 
us come on board," he said persuasively; "we desire 
to have a friendly talk." 

Taking a little while to think over the proposition, 
Colonel Brown concluded that as there were so few 
men in the canoe it would not be imprudent to allow 
them to come on board. With his permission then, the 
red men, in great good humor climbed over the railing 
onto the deck, to the delight of Joseph and the other 
children, who beheld in them, especially in their chief, 
another interesting novelty. 

The brawny chief, Cutlestoy, whose dark body was 
naked to the waist, was decked in beads and feathers, 
and his head was shaven and dyed with bright colors 

136 



The Squaw's Prophecy. 

on each side of his scalp lock. Of course, being an In- 
dian, he had no beard, and all the strong lines and 
ugly scars on his face showed plainly. But in spite 
of a natural scowl, he tried to speak fairly. He even 
went so far as to offer to send a man ahead to Nick- 
ajack (the next town on the river), where there was, 
as he said, an Indian who thoroughly understood 
the stream, and who would, at his bidding, pilot the 
voyagers over the shallows of Mussel Shoals and other 
dangers in the Tennessee's fretted current. 

Colonel Brown gratefully accepted the proffer of 
a pilot, whereupon Cutlestoy jumped into his canoe and 
pulled off to the shore with his men. It is true that 
he sent runners off to Nickajack as soon as he had 
landed, but they were charged with a message which 
was quite different from what he had told Colonel 
Brown it would be. In reality he had sent word to 
the principal chiefs to raise all the fighting men they 
could, in a hurry, and send them in canoes, well armed, 
up the river to meet the white man's boat and destroy 
the crew. 

Not dreaming of treachery, Colonel Brown went 
on down the river almost as far as Nickajack. The 
stream was now lighted by the rising sun. Level rays 
shot along the waters, and not far ahead could be 
seen the bright flash of oars on four long canoes which 
had pushed out from shore near the town, and were 
swiftly moving up the current. Two and two, side 
by side they glided upstream, each canoe paddled by 
ten big Indians. Above each boat's crew fluttered a 
white flag, in token of peace and friendship, yet Colo- 
nel Brown took alarm at their numbers, and said un- 
easily : "I do not like the looks of those fellows." 

137 



Old Tales Retold. 

"O, they surely mean well," replied his son James, 
"else they would not sail under a white flag." 

"We will not trust them too far," said his father. 
"We could not defend the boat against forty men if 
they should come close alongside and then attack us." 
Whereupon he hailed the warriors, bidding them keep 
at a safe distance. As though they did not hear him, 
the Indians continued to advance. Indignant at their 
conduct, Colonel Brown promptly had his boat wheeled 
around so that the stern faced the savages. The 
swivel gun was leveled, and the young men stood 
ready to fire. 

Seeing the intention of the white people, an English- 
speaking half-breed, who said his name was Vaun, 
rose in one of the skiffs and called out : "Stop ! It is a 
time of peace between the whites and the Cherokees. 
If a gun is fired, it will be in violation of the treaties 
of Holston and Hopewell. We claim protection under 
those treaties of peace." 

Colonel Brown replied that he did not wish to harm 
them, but that there were too many of them for him 
to allow them to come near his boat. Vaun continued 
to insist that they were friendly, and said smilingly: 
"Do you not see that we are unarmed?" To all ap- 
pearances this was true. There were no firearms in 
sight among the Indians, nothing in their hands ex- 
cept the paddles, nothing in the bottom of the canoes 
except bales of deer hides which, as Vaun explained, 
had been brought along in the hope that they might be 
exchanged for goods, if the voyagers should have any 
for trade. After a short consultation with his men, 
Colonel Brown concluded to yield to Vaun's persua- 
sions and permit his party to come on board. "For," 

138 



The Squaw's Prophecy. 

said he, "we are now in an Indian country, and I do 
not wish to break any treaty." A moment later and 
the canoes were alongside and the occupants were soon 
bounding over the railing of the house boats to the 
deck. Here they behaved more like guileless children 
than like the hardened warriors they really were. It 
was great sport to the young Browns to see them run 
about the deck, as though in playful curiosity, exam- 
ining every part of the boat and peering into every 
corner. While they were thus engaged, seven or eight 
long canoes filled with Indians were seen winding 
through the canebrakes where the water had over- 
flowed on one side and made the river doubly wide. 
No sooner had the canoes left the backwater and 
turned into the current than the behavior of Vaun's 
men underwent a marked change. From being inno- 
cently friendly in manner they suddenly became rude 
and boisterous. Some of them began to rifle the 
cabin of food and clothing, others took pieces of 
furniture and threw them overboard into their canoes, 
while still others boldly threw aside the bales of hides 
and disclosed a full supply of guns in the bottom of 
each boat. Too late the white men perceived that 
they had been duped, and that they were now com- 
pletely in the power of the savages. By this time the 
approaching canoes had come up, and another still 
larger crowd of armed warriors vaulted into the boat. 
It was useless for any one to offer resistance while the 
newcomers swarmed on deck and joined in the pilfer- 
ing that was still going on. Joseph Brown had left 
his sister Jane and little Polly as well as George and 
the baby in the cabin with their mother, and had gone 
out again to see what the uproar was about. Having 

J 39 



Old Tales Retold. 

found his father, he was standing near him in the 
stern watching the Indians and wondering at their 
changed behavior when suddenly his arm was seized 
by a fierce-looking fellow who had a tomahawk lifted 
as if to kill him. Colonel Brown saw the action, and, 
grappling with the savage, he pushed him to one side, 
while he said sternly: "Do not dare to touch the lad 
again. He is my own little boy, and must not be 
injured." 

Cowed by the white man's anger, the assassin 
skulked off; but as soon as the brave soldier turned 
his back to enforce order in another part of the vessel 
the red man slipped up behind and dealt him a blow 
which nearly severed the head from his body. Colo- 
nel Brown's murderer quickly threw his body over 
the rail into the water; and Joseph, who had not seen 
the blow that killed him, seeing his father sink in the 
river, ran to his elder brothers crying: "Our father 
has fallen overboard, and he is drowned." The young 
men, who knew their father to be an excellent swim- 
mer, guessed what had happened, and began to show 
resistance. Immediately, in a united rush, the Indians 
bore down upon them and overpowered every man on 
the vessel. The boat being now in their possession, 
the robbers steered for the shore and moored it at the 
upper end of their town. 

Here a scene of confusion unexpectedly took place. 
At the moment of their landing it happened that a 
band of hostile Creeks dashed among them and began 
to seize upon the captives the Chickamaugas had led 
out of the house boat to the shore. They succeeded in 
getting Mrs. Brown and four of her small children, 
whom they carried off prisoners toward the Creek 

140 



The Squazv's Prophecy. 

country, before the men of Nickajack could recover 
from their surprise. 

All this time a warrior in one of the canoes was 
trying to persuade Joseph Brown, by signs and mo- 
tions, to go with him. Half coaxing, half dragging 
the boy forward, he was doing his best to get him from 
the shore into the skiff; but the little fellow, who did 
not yet realize that they were all captives, flatly re- 
fused to go. The Cherokee chief then appeared to 
give up the attempt and went away, but soon returned, 
bringing with him an old man and his wife who, 
though they now seemed to be Indians, looked as if 
they had once been white people. The old man spoke 
to the child in English, tipped with Irish brogue, ex- 
plaining to him that it would not be safe for him to an- 
ger the chief. In conclusion, he said persuasively: 
"It's to me own house you'll be going, me boy." 

"Where do you live?" questioned Joseph, still in 
doubt. 

"Only about a mile out of the town," replied the 
man coaxingly. 

The bewildered boy was at a loss to know what 
to do. He had seen his eldest brother going in an- 
other direction with a party of Indians, and he could 
nowhere find his mother, so at last he compromised 
by saying: "I suppose I can go with you to-night, 
but we will continue our journey in the morning." 
Everything had happened so quickly that the child 
hardly knew as yet what had taken place. 

"Then come along with you," said the Indian-Irish- 
man ; "I am ready to start." 

Catching sight, just then, of his brother James, the 
unsuspecting boy called out to him: "This old man 

141 



Old Tales Retold. 

wishes me to go with him to sleep at his house to- 
night. If I may go, I will return early in the morn- 
ing." The elder brother, who knew that they would 
never see each other again, answered sadly, "Very 
well ;" and Joseph walked off contentedly beside the 
old man and his wife, chatting with them as he went. 

Before they had gone a great distance he paused to 
listen to a volley of guns firing behind them. "Ah," 
said he regretfully, "those foolish Indians have taken 
our guns from the boat, and are firing them off to see 
how they shoot." Little did he imagine that he had 
just heard the death shots of his brothers and the 
other young men as they were being murdered by 
their captors. 

Joseph continued to talk artlessly to the old people, 
who told him, in return, much about themselves. In 
answer to his innocent questions, the woman said that 
she was French, and that the young warrior who 
tried to get him into the boat was her son, and that 
after the death of the Indian chief who was his father 
she had married the Irishman, Tom Tunbridge, who 
was her present husband, though she still went by 
the name of Polly Mallette. At last they reached the 
rough hut which Tom and Polly used as a home. The 
hut was situated at the foot of a mountain, and was 
only a few yards from the mouth of the large cavern 
which is widely known as Nickajack Cave. 

The boy's guileless talk on the way had excited the 
compassion of the old people, and had aroused in them 
the remnant of generous feeling which was left after 
a life of outlawry and crime. They resolved to treat 
him as well in his captivity as circumstances would 
allow. With this kind thought in their hearts they 

142 



The Squaw's Prophecy. 

were about to enter the cabin when an old, fat squaw 
came running after them and rushed, panting, close 
at their heels, through the door. Sweat was falling 
in drops from her pendulous cheeks, and her features 
were quivering with excitement. She appeared to be 
in a rage, and fell to scolding the people of the house 
in a language which the boy could not understand. He 
could only see that she was quarreling with them. He 
afterwards learned that she was saying to them : "You 
have acted like fools to keep the child. He should 
not have been brought away from the town. You 
know well that he ought to have been killed as the 
other white men were. He is too large to be kept as 
a prisoner." 

"Indeed, no !" answered Polly Mallette. "I need 
the boy to wait on me. I, who am growing old, need 
a slave to save my strength." 

"And you care nothing," retorted the squaw, "for 
the safety of the place. That boy," she continued, 
as she shook her finger at the lad, "will soon be grown. 
He will see everything; he will learn the secrets of 
our caves and hiding places, and find out our hidden 
paths, and some day, mark my words, he will escape 
and guide an army here, and will cut us all off." As 
though it were an inspired prophecy, the squaw's pre- 
diction rang clear and loud. "He must be killed," she 
cried, and reached out a hand to seize him. But Tom 
Tunbridge drove her off, saying she should not have 
the boy. "Very well," replied the squaw, "my son, 
Cutleotoy, will be here directly, and he will assuredly 
kill the young viper." 

As her threatening gestures alarmed Joseph, the 
old man tried to soothe his fears by saying: "You 

H3 



Old Tales Retold. 

shall not be hurt, though the old squaw declares her 
son will be after murthering you." Polly also tried 
to comfort him, bidding him sit down on the side 
of the bed (a mere frame of poles covered with skins), 
and while he obeyed Tom Tunbridge took his stand 
in the doorway. As the man stood there, face out- 
ward, watching uneasily for Cutleotoy to come up the 
road, he was startled by a short, sharp whoop close to 
his ear, and the chief of Tuskigagee bounded into 
view, coming from another direction, and not by the 
road that led from the river, as Tom had expected. 

Cutleotoy confronted the old man with the ques- 
tion : "Is there a white man within ?" 

"No," said the Irishman, "there is a bit of a white 
boy in there." 

"I know how big he is," retorted the chief; "and 
he must be killed." 

"Sure," said the old man, "it is a pity to kill women 
and children." 

"That is no child," said Cutleotoy angrily, and, re- 
peating almost the words of his mother, he continued : 
"The boy will soon be grown and will perhaps be ex- 
changed for a prisoner of war, and will afterwards 
return here to show the palefaces the mountain paths 
and strongholds which no white man now knows." 
After a short pause he said with decision : "Tom Tun- 
bridge, the boy must die. I have spoken." 

"You forget," said Tunbridge, "that he is our son's 
captive. You dare not kill the prisoner of Chia-Chatt- 
Alla. He is still in the town, but he will be here 
directly." 

This speech was insulting to Cutleotoy's pride, for 
Tom Tunbridge's stepson, though he was the brother 

144 



The Squaw's Prophecy. 

of the powerful chief, Dragging Canoe, was himself 
only a young brave, barely twenty-two years of age, 
while he, Cutleotoy, was a seasoned warrior, and the 
head man of Tuskigagee. In his anger he sprang 
upon the old man with his knife drawn, saying taunt- 
ingly : "Are you going to be the white man's friend ? 
After casting your lot with the Chickamaugas, are 
you going to betray them ?" 

Tunbridge backed from the doorsill into the house, 
saying timorously : "No, no, take him along if you 
must have him." 

Following the Irishman into the house, the chief 
strode to the bedside and flourished his tomahawk 
above Joseph's head. "Ah ! ah ! ah !" shrieked Polly 
Mallette, "I cannot have the child killed in my house. 
Evil luck will fall upon it." Whereupon Cutleotoy 
caught Joseph by the arm and took him out of doors 
into the midst of a band of his followers who had 
collected about the house. As they closed in around 
him in a circle, yelling and brandishing clubs and 
cocking their guns, the boy thought his last hour had 
come, and called out to Tom Tunbridge to beg the 
chief to allow him a few minutes for prayer. To this 
request, when Tunbridge had translated it into Cher- 
okee, Cutleotoy answered roughly : "It is not worth 
while to waste time in such foolishness." 

To prepare the victim for death, the clothes were 
now stripped off of his slender body in order that 
they might not be spoiled by blood. His continental 
coat, ruffled shirt, and knee breeches had been laid 
aside, and the savages were in the act of striking 
him down when Polly Mallette ran forward scream- 
ing : "I pray you, do not kill the boy on the path along 
10 145 



Old Tales Retold. 

which I am obliged to carry water every day. His 
ghost will haunt me, and I will have no peace of my 
life." 

"To Running Water with him !" cried out one of 
the men ; and the others, catching up the words, said : 
"We will take him to Tuskigagee, where we will have 
a frolic knocking him over. There will be no silly 
squaws there to feel sorry for him." 

Joseph did not understand their language, but he 
saw by their actions that he was to be killed, and 
while they were waiting to start he fell on his knees 
to pray the prayer of St. Stephen, "Lord, receive my 
spirit," an act of piety which touched old Tunbridge's 
Irish heart. Stealing to the lad's side, he laid a kindly 
hand on his shoulder and said : "They will not kill you 
here, me boy. You must get up and go with them to 
another place." Joseph rose, and the troop started off 
with him at a running pace. But they had gone only 
about eighty yards when Cutleotoy halted his men ab- 
ruptly. They looked at their chief in wonder at his 
irresolution, astonished to hear him say: "I cannot kill 
this boy. He is the prisoner of Chia-Chatt-Alla, who 
is a full-grown man of war, entitled to his own pris- 
oner. You are my men, and it will be as bad for you 
to do so as for me to kill him myself. Besides," he 
added, "I have taken a prisoner of my own. I took a 
neero woman out of the white men's boat and sent her 
by water to my lodge. If we kill this lad, Chia-Chatt- 
Alla will go and kill my negro, nor could all the In- 
dians in the nation keep him from putting her to death, 
and I do not want to lose my slave." 

Well might the bravest chief fear the anger of the 
young warrior who had already, in spite of his youth, 

146 



The Squaw's Prophecy. 

won the title of the "White Man Killer," having slain 
six white men while he was still a boy. 

During Cutleotoy's speech Joseph Brown had again 
knelt to give his soul into God's keeping. He remem- 
bered the story his mother had read to him about the 
martyr Stephen, and he believed that if he asked it the 
same blessed vision of the Saviour would be sent to 
comfort his own dying moments. Such was the faith 
of his innocent heart when he opened his eyes and 
saw the savages still surrounding him. Yet could he 
believe it? They were looking kindly on him. The 
only Indian in the crowd who seemed not to be ap- 
peased was the old squaw who had prophesied against 
him. She was so disappointed that he was not to be 
tortured and killed that she began kicking and abus- 
ing him while she muttered: "The young snake will 
live to bring an army here and destroy us." Still 
grumbling, she declared that she did not intend to be 
cheated out of his scalp lock altogether; she gathered 
up the cue of his long hair and haggled it in two with 
her dull knife as she exclaimed: "I will have part of 
it anyhow." She did not let him alone until the last 
warrior had gone off and left him with his protectors, 
Tom and Polly, who led him back to the cabin near 
the cave. 

Joseph Brown was taken by them the next day to 
the presence of "The Breath," the head man of 
Nickajack, who told him that so long as he looked 
and dressed like a white boy his life would be in con- 
stant danger from the warriors, who hated all pale- 
faces. "In order to save yourself," said The Breath, 
"you must become an Indian. If you do not put on 
the Indian dress, you will surely be killed." In a few 

147 



Old Tales Retold. 

hours the change was made. Joseph was clothed in 
a hunting shirt, such as Indian boys wear, his hair 
was all sheared off except a scalp lock on top, the sides 
of his head were painted in contrasting colors, and his 
skin was stained red. When, in addition, bone ear- 
rings were suspended from holes bored in his ears, it 
would have been hard for any one to tell that he was 
not Cherokee born. 

From this time on Joseph led the life of a slave. 
Although Tunbridge and his wife did not mistreat him 
in other ways, he was made to toil in the field beyond 
his strength, and at night he had no better bed than 
a bearskin spread upon the dirt floor of the hut. Be- 
sides enduring these hardships, he was in constant 
danger of death and his heart was all the time heavy 
with grief for his lost mother and sisters and brothers. 
What had become of them after the men were all 
killed he could not learn, though he often made him- 
self troublesome with questions about them. 

But one joyful day he learned that Jane and little Polly 
were not only still alive but that they were then both 
of them in the town of Nickajack, scarcely a mile away. 
It appeared that though they had been stolen by the 
Creeks, together with their mother and the other two 
children, directly after the landing of Colonel Brown's 
boat, the Chickamaugas had succeeded in recapturing 
the two little girls from them. Jane, the elder of the 
two, had been living all the while in Nickajack; but 
Polly had fallen into the hands of a squaw in Running 
Water, who had brought the child with her that day 
to Nickajack. Joseph begged to be allowed to see 
his sisters, and finally persuaded Polly Mallette to 

148 



The Squaw's Prophecy. 

accompany him to the town for the purpose. At the 
end of the road, which ran almost straight from the 
cabin to the river town, at right angle with the stream, 
they entered a wigwam where two little girls dressed 
in the clumsy clothes worn by Indian children were 
caressing each other as they played together in the 
room. Joseph, seeing that they were about the size 
of his sisters, longed more than ever to see his lost 
playmates. "Where are Jane and Polly?" he inquired. 

"Make use of your eyes," replied the French wom- 
an. "You are a dull boy not to know your own sis- 
ters." 

Instantly Joseph clasped the smaller girl in his arms, 
exclaiming: "I did not know our little Polly without 
her pretty curls and pinafores." With tears in his 
eyes, he questioned both to find out how they were 
faring, and was greatly comforted to learn that each 
was kindly treated, and that Polly especially was ten- 
derly cared for by the squaw to whom she belonged. 
Indian women, as he knew, made particularly fond 
mothers to the young, a knowledge which enabled the 
lad to endure with more patience than he otherwise 
could have had the weary months of toil in the 
summer's heat. Yet he was sad at best. He could 
not banish the thought that they were all three fast 
becoming real savages. A longing for freedom con- 
sumed him. There were days when the intensity of 
his feelings allowed him no rest. After the summer 
had passed and the hardships of winter were being 
felt his discontent grew stronger. He could not sit 
in the hut for restlessness, no matter how cold it 
might be outside. At such times he would climb to 
the highest point on the mountain behind the cabin 

149 



Old Tales Retold. 

and gaze across the country through the wide Se- 
quatchie Valley toward the distant peaks where he 
fancied the valiant John Sevier, the terror of all bad 
Indians, might have his home. Somewhere in that 
direction, he thought, was the eyrie of "The Great 
Eagle of the Palefaces," who, if he only knew of the 
cruelties that were being practiced on white prisoners 
by the Chickamauga bandits, would hasten to their 
relief. There were times when he tried to be re- 
signed, and only prayed for patience; but on other 
days the boy's frail body, worn by toil and hard fare 
to a mere skeleton, weighing only eighty pounds, was 
shaken by sobs, and all his prayer was for help to 
come quickly, before his strength should give out. 

The dreary winter seemed long in going by. At 
last, however, came spring, and with it a day on 
which Joseph Brown observed an unusual stir among 
the Indians. Groups of warriors were to be seen 
talking together here, there, everywhere he went, and 
he noticed that they lowered their tones and cast sig- 
nificant glances in his direction whenever he ap- 
proached. Though he could not hear a word they 
said, he rightly judged that they were talking of some- 
thing that particularly concerned himself. Within a 
few days he found out all that they were trying to 
hide from him. They could not longer conceal from 
him that Gen. John Sevier had lately descended on 
one of the Chickamauga towns and carried off cap- 
tive every inhabitant of the village. Since the battle 
Sevier had sent the Chickamaugas a strong "peace 
talk," in which he agreed to release his prisoners on 
condition that every white captive in the Cherokee 
nation, without exception, should be given up to him. 

150 




"At suck times he would climb to the highest f>oi>it on the 
mountain." (Page i4Q.\ 



The Squaw's Prophecy. 

On these terms alone he said he would grant the In- 
dians peace. In his offers of exchange General Se- 
vier had made special mention of the children who 
had been taken from Colonel Brown's boat. Joseph 
Brown was rejoiced to hear of these events that 
seemed to have happened in direct answer to his 
prayers. 

The Chickamaugas dared not do otherwise than ac- 
cept the terms offered. Meeting in council in one of 
the lower towns, the sentiment of all was expressed 
by the famous chief, Kunot Kelfig (John Watts), 
who said of Sevier: "The wind and the fire fight for 
him. From his high station in the clouds The Great 
Eagle sees our exposed places, and when he swoops 
down his hot breath blasts our cornfields and con- 
sumes our wigwams. His flight is like the wind; 
his blow like the thunderbolt. Who can stand before 
him?" 

Runners were sent at once to bring the young white 
people to Coosawattee, where the principal chief of 
the upper towns was to meet The Breath and receive 
the prisoners from him. But in the meantime The 
Breath had become dissatisfied with what was re- 
quired of him, and began to grumble, saying: "Gen- 
eral Sevier has no right to claim any captives except 
those who live in his own country west of the moun- 
tains ; and these children, as he well knows, came 
from North Carolina." 

"That is true," replied the chief of the upper 
towns, "but Little John [which was one of their names 
for Sevier] was so mean that I could do nothing with 
him, although I told him so." The Breath still in- 
sisted that it was not fair to make him give up pris- 

151 



Old Tales Retold. 

oners from another country, to which the other chief 
replied, saying conclusively: "Little John declared 
that he would not let one of our people free unless he 
got all of the whites who are in the Cherokee Nation." 

Then The Breath, seeing that Jane had not been 
brought in, and that only Joseph and Polly were in 
Coosawattee, consented to let the two go. 

Young Brown, who had been listening closely to 
all that passed, now spoke out manfully, saying, "I 
will not go without my sister. Why is not Jane 
brought in?" a demand which put the chief of Nick- 
ajack to confusion. He was angry enough with the 
lad to have killed him on the spot, but he was too 
much in awe of The Great Eagle of the Palefaces to 
indulge his temper. Therefore, after a short con- 
sultation with the head man of the upper towns, he 
sent a swift runner to fetch the child. 

The messenger was gone two days. On the third 
day he came back alone, and reported that the In- 
dian who had captured her refused obstinately to give 
up his slave. Joseph's heart sank within him when 
he heard the messenger tell the result of his errand 
to the chiefs in council. It now seemed probable that 
none of them would be set free. At this juncture a 
tall warrior with beetling brow and piercing eyes 
arose and, looking slowly around upon the assembled 
braves, said sententiously : "I will go to that warrior's 
wigwam. I will return bringing the child, or I will 
bring his head." True to his word, he came back in 
a short time with Jane in his arms upon his horse. 

At last the prisoners were ready to be transferred. 
"Come with me," said Joseph, attempting to take his 
sister Polly's hand, when to his surprise the tiny 

*5 2 



The Squazv's Prophecy. 

creature ran away and threw herself impulsively into 
the arms of the good squaw who had nursed her and 
made a pet of her during the long winter months. It 
was painful to the lad to be obliged to unclasp the 
small hands from around the fond squaw's neck and 
take his sister forcibly away; but after he had held 
the child close to his own heart awhile and told her 
how grieved their mother would be never to see her 
precious Polly again, he had no further trouble in 
leading the little one off. 

Only a few days were spent in travel before the 
young captives were safe in the hands of their white 
friends. Not long afterwards they were restored to 
their mother, who, with her youngest child, had been 
released by the Creek chief, McGillivray, through the 
efforts of Gen. James Robertson. George Brown was 
held for five years longer, as prisoner and slave, by 
the Creeks of Georgia. 

In the course of time the Brown family took pos- 
session of their land in the Cumberland country. 
The region in which their claim was located was 
afterwards called Maury County. In later life Joseph 
Brown was greatly loved and honored as a Cumber- 
land Presbyterian divine in his home, three miles from 
Columbia. 

*53 



XIII. 

NIGHT ASSAULT ON BUCHANAN'S STA- 
TION. 

In September, 1792, Maj. John Buchanan was ex- 
pecting an Indian attack upon his station, a strong log 
fort with blockhouses at the four corners, situated 
about five miles from Nashville. A number of pioneer 
families from the surrounding country had fled to 
the station for protection, and the men among them 
were actively helping Buchanan prepare the place 
against assault. Some, appointed for the task, care- 
fully examined and reloaded the extra rifles, hung 
powder horns, freshly filled with powder, in con- 
venient places on the walls, and heaped piles of newly 
molded bullets where they could be found when 
needed ; while other willing hands, wielding ax and 
hammer, were repairing all weak places and strength- 
ening the palisades in every part. 

The whole of the past season had been a period of 
anxiety to the Cumberland settlers. Early in the sum- 
mer George Finalson and Jo Derogue (a half-breed 
Indian), both of whom were good friends of Major 
Buchanan, had brought him a startling piece of news. 
They said that they knew positively that the Indians 
were planning to attack the station in great force. 
Derogue, who had recently come back to the settle- 
ments after a visit to his red kinsmen among the 
Chickamaugas, said that when he left their country 
near Lookout Mountain the Indians were almost ready 
to go on the warpath. He had been present when the 

J 54 



Night Assault on Buchanan s Station. 

braves were performing the scalp dance around the 
council fires. Telling this, with details that were 
frightful to hear, Derogue said further that since the 
death of Dragging Canoe the Chickamaugas had 
found an equally ruthless leader in his younger broth- 
er, Chia-Chatt-Alla, called The White Man Killer, 
whose ruling ambition it was to destroy the Cumber- 
land settlements. With this intention he had gathered 
a large force from among his own braves, as well as 
the Creeks south of them, and was making ready to 
fall upon all the stations along the Cumberland in 
succession, beginning at Buchanan's, then attacking 
the fort at the Bluffs, and so on until the eight sta- 
tions should be destroyed. Derogue could not tell 
the exact time appointed for the raid. He could onlv 
say warningly to his friend Buchanan : "Look out for 
the Indians at the full of the moon." 

Three moons had waxed and waned since then, 
during which time the white people had watched and 
waited in dread, yet the Indians had not come. Gen. 
James Robertson, at the Bluffs, had early taken pre- 
cautions toward protecting the whole country in case 
of an incursion of Indians. Companies of scouts and 
spies had been sent out in various directions under 
Captains Rains, Gordon, Maury, and Williams to pa- 
trol the frontier. Five hundred of the militia were 
stationed within two miles of Nashville in camp, un- 
der Colonels Winchester, M'ansco, and Elijah Robert- 
son, in readiness to go wherever they might first be 
needed, and at the same time constant watch was kept 
around all the stations. During this trying time Gen- 
eral Robertson himself was said to "sleep with one 
eye open." When the September moon began to full 

155 



Old Tales Retold. 

he again sent Captain Rains out with a troop of horse- 
men, telling him to scour the country and to learn, 
if possible, when and which wa}^ the enemy were com- 
ing. After a thorough search Rains and his spies 
returned, saying that they could "see no Indian signs 
in any quarter." Rains also sent a man to Buchanan's 
with the reassuring message that "the traces of an In- 
dian army are nowhere to be found." 

Upon this information the militia were marched back 
to Nashville, and disbanded on Friday, September 28. 
The leaders, convinced that they had been needlessly 
alarmed, went back to their usual pursuits. 

But Major Buchanan and his sensible young wife, 
Sallie, were of the opinion that the danger was not 
over. Having full confidence in the word of their 
friends, Finalson and Derogue, they became more 
vigilant as the moon began again to increase in size. 
Buchanan made up his mind to send out two scouts 
on his own account to get still later information than 
Rains had brought. Coming to this conclusion on 
Saturday, the day after the troops disbanded, he sent 
out Jonathan Gee and Seward Clayton that very night 
with instructions to travel on the same trail Captain 
Rains had explored, and to be sure to go far beyond 
the Black Fox's Camp (a noted spring near Murfrees- 
boro), where Indian parties entering the settlements 
from the south usually stopped for rest. 

The young men were quickly off, and spent the re- 
mainder of the night in hunting for "Indian signs" 
along the main trail and on each side of it for some 
distance out. Yet they did not really expect to make 
any discoveries until after passing the Black Fox's 
Camp, since Rains had so recently been over the same 

156 



Night Assault on Buchanan's Station. 

ground. Consequently they were riding at their ease 
on Sunday afternoon, laughing and talking in unre- 
strained tones, when Gee's practiced eyes detected two 
men approaching in the distance. "Look there!" he 
exclaimed under his breath, catching his companion's 
arm. 

Clayton, who had once been a captive among the 
Indians and knew their ways, halted and closely exam- 
ined the men; then, replying with a careless laugh, 
said : "Don't be uneasy. Can't you see they are dressed 
like white men ? I know them well. They are George 
Fields and John Walker, both of them trusty half- 
breeds. When they speak to us presently you will 
see that they are friendly." 

Gee was surprised, therefore, when they drew nearer 
to be challenged rather brusquely with the inquiry: 
"Who are you?" But upon hearing the reply, "Gee 
and Clayton," the half-breeds advanced in a most 
friendly manner. Indeed, they proved to be so affable, 
and showed such an interest in the young men and 
in their journey, that the latter frankly told them 
where they were going and whom they were hunting. 
Thus the half-breeds, who were in reality advance 
spies for a large Indian army just behind them, held 
the white scouts in pleasant conversation until the 
main body of the savages, led by Chia-Chatt-Alla, 
came up and surrounded them. As the spies had 
already learned from them all they could tell about 
the defenses of the whites, there was no reason for 
the Indians to hold them as prisoners, so the two 
young men were killed on the spot. After which 
the army of red men, eight hundred strong, moved 
on rapidly toward the settlements, marching in 

*57 



Old Tales Retold. 

three long columns. Encouraged by the informa- 
tion they had gained from Gee and Clayton that 
Buchanan's Station was defended by only twenty- 
one men, and confident in the skill of their chief, they 
eagerly advanced, as they thought, to certain victory. 
"For Chia-Chatt-Alla bears a charmed life," said his 
admiring followers. "White men's bullets cannot 
harm The White Man Killer." In truth, their leader 
had passed unhurt through many dangers, and was 
known throughout the Indian country as "The Great 
Slayer Whom All Must Fear." 

The braves believed that he was able to carry out 
his plan to kill every paleface, put the torch to every 
house, and then glide back with his army in safety 
to the secret fastnesses of the mountains where no man 
could reach them. With unwearied zeal, therefore, 
the savages trooped on that night, through the forest 
to Buchanan's Station, while all at the stockade was 
peacefully quiet under the beams of the full harvest 
moon. 

The people in the fort had looked in vain for the 
return of Clayton and Gee as the day drew to a close. 
Major Buchanan and his wife, with a foreboding of 
evil, sat up late waiting for the scouts. "Surely they 
will come in directly and bring us news," said the 
commander of the fort, trying to speak hopefully. 
But he waited in vain. And finally after he had once 
more gone round the fort and examined to see that 
nothing had been left undone, he and his wife retired 
to rest. Long ago he had sent the other men to bed, 
telling them to sleep while they could. In obedience 
to his orders every man slept with his gun close beside 
him. Not a few of the women also had their weapons 

158 



Night Assault on Buchanan's Station. 



v s 



handy. Even the aged mother of the commander had 
tucked under her pillow the ancient blunderbuss which 
had not been used since it was wielded by her hus- 
band in the battle of the Bluffs. The gun was so rude 
and clumsy in make and of such an ancient pattern 
that the soldiers laughingly called it "my grandmam- 
my's pocket piece." Yet though the old-fashioned 
weapon took four times the amount of powder that 
was needed for an ordinary rifle before it was fully 
charged, and it was doubtful if it could be fired at all, 
the old lady felt reasonably safe as long as it lay under 
her head. 

Most women were brave in those days. But an ex- 
ception to the rule was a certain young mother who 
had taken refuge in the station with her children. 
Frequently during the day she had clung to Mrs. 
Sallie Buchanan's side, weeping aloud and wringing 
her hands in an agony of nervous dread. "Go to your 
room, Phoebe," said the commander's wife kindly ; 
"go to sleep and forget your fears. The night may 
pass without trouble, and you will feel better in the 
morning." 

Mistress Phcebe had thus been persuaded to take 
her little ones and retire early in the evening. It was 
now nearly midnight. All were asleep except the 
sentinels who paced the watchtower above the gate. 
Quiet reigned within and without the fort while 
Thomas McCrory and his fellow-watchman guarded 
the sleeping garrison and kept a sharp lookout for the 
enemy. East, west, north, and south they turned their 
searching gaze, only to see calm, moonlit fields or else 
the silver-fringed trees that edged the rough slope of 
ground which fell away from the front of the stockade 

159 



Old Tales Retold. 

toward the woods. The full moon had sailed upward 
till it hung almost overhead, shedding light upon the 
open space around the walls and reflecting itself in 
the spring and its winding branch. Its radiance made 
all the blacker the shadow in a pit which had lately 
been dug near the gate outside. Nothing stirred. 
There was no sound louder than the whip-poor-will's 
brisk notes or the trill of tree frogs until the tall, 
wooden, cog-wheeled clock in the principal room of 
the fort made ready to strike. There was a long-con- 
tinued, buzzing whir of inside works, while the hands 
were folded together above its face, before the old 
clock clanged out twelve loud, metallic strokes. As 
the last stroke resounded through the stockade Thomas 
McCrory sprang to the front of the lookout, alert and 
watchful. "Hist! what is that?" he said, just as a 
herd of cattle came scampering out of the woods be- 
yond the stony slope, as though they had been fright- 
ened. The sentinels stood watching, and presently 
masses of shadow seemed to separate from the dark- 
ness of the forest and move over the rising ground to- 
ward the fort. No sooner had the shadowy objects 
come forward into the moonlight than they were seen 
to be three distinct columns of warriors advancing at 
a rapid gait. "Indians! Indians!" shouted both watch- 
men in a breath, while McCrory leveled his rifle and 
fired to alarm the garrison. War whoops rent the air 
in return. The Indians, now running three abreast 
to take the fort by storm, did not pause in their onset, 
though McCrory's gun had killed one of their leaders 
and the other sentinel had wounded the noted half- 
breed chief, John Watts (Kunot Kelfig). Only in- 
cited by their loss to seek revenge, the Indians rushed 

1 60 



Night Assault on Buchanan's Station. 



v s 



forward to surround the stockade. By this time the 
whites were all astir. Seizing their guns as they 
sprang from bed, the men nimbly climbed the ladders 
to the portholes and began to fire at their assailants. 
Savages on every side were crowding so close to the 
walls that the defenders could scarcely get a gun to 
bear on them. Numbers of them were also concealed 
in the shadow of the partially dug cellar, where they 
could lie down to load and only rise when it was neces- 
sary to do so in order to fire. Several of the more 
daring Indians tried to scale the walls, and some of 
them stood under the over jutting corner houses and 
fired upward at the white men in them. But in each 
case the bullets, by good chance, passed harmlessly 
through the cracks in the floor and lodged in the roof 
overhead. 

Success at every point was attending the pioneers, 
who stood at their posts faithfully carrying out the 
orders of their commander. The women, inspired by 
Sallie Buchanan's fine example, were doing equally 
good service in their own way, emulating her cour- 
age as she went here, there, everywhere helping and 
suggesting. One moment by her husband's side re- 
ceiving a communication, the next moment she would 
be at the top of a ladder delivering his message and 
seeing, too, that it was properly executed. Now sup- 
plying marksmen with ammunition, now giving a time- 
ly word of encouragement, and again on her knees by 
the hearth pouring molten lead into the bullet molds, 
she had no time to think of herself, no leisure for 
selfish alarm. She carried aid and cheer everywhere 
she went, and everywhere found men doing their duty 
except once, when she chanced, in her rounds, to see 
ii 161 



Old Tales Retold. 

a craven fellow skulking in a corner. Her eyes kin- 
dled indignantly at seeing him slip from out the dim 
firelight and hide in the shadow of the chimney jamb 
as she approached. "What are you doing there, 
Tom?" she sternly demanded. There was no answer 
from the dark corner. "Why are you not fighting?" 
The crash of guns and sound of bullets on the roof 
seemed louder in the interval that followed while Tom 
was considering whether it were better to be shot at 
by the wild men outside or be scorned for cowardice 
by a woman. Mrs. Buchanan settled his doubts for 
him by saying, as she pointed a finger at him : "I'd 
rather be killed fighting like a man than live to be 
shamed of all. Go to your gun ! Go to your gun this 
instant, for your credit's sake." He went, and tradi- 
tion says that there was not a better soldier in the 
fort from that moment than the reconstructed Thomas. 
The battle went on, and Mrs. Buchanan was again 
busy carrying balls for the soldiers, who were now 
being hard pressed by the large numbers of the assail- 
ants. In the midst of her duties she was hailed in a 
loud voice by an impetuous Irishman whose senses 
were none the clearer for having taken a "horn too 
much" of whisky. His eyes were too bright for the 
time of night, and his spirits were full gay for the 
occasion as he came lurching down from his post, 
bawling at the top of his voice: "It's me own gun that 
is no account at all. Lend me the loan of 'me grand- 
mammy's pocket piece,' and it's Jimmie O'Conner will 
put the whole Injun army to rout." As he would take 
no denial, the old gun was finally put at O'Conner's 
disposal. Having rammed its quadruple load into the 
piece, the noisy Irishman clambered up the ladder 

162 



Night Assault on Buchanan s Station. 

and thrust the blunderbuss through the porthole. Pull- 
ing the trigger, he cried confidently : "It's dead ye are 
entirely." 

He was sure he had done great execution, though 
he had heard no report, a circumstance he accounted 
for by the uproar that was going on all around. He 
scrambled down the ladder and demanded another load. 
Four times in succession he came down for ammuni- 
tion, and each time he put into the gun the full amount 
of powder it required. In the belief that he had al- 
ready dealt death to the savages with each shot, he 
pulled the trigger for the fifth time as he exclaimed: 
"Hurray ! This will finish the row !" The gun went 
off. A streak of fire that seemed a yard long to Jim- 
mie's astonished eyes flashed from the muzzle with a 
loud bang that shook the stout buildings and drowned 
every other noise. O'Conner, kicked backwards by 
the recoil, went rolling down eight feet to the ground 
floor. "My grandmammy's pocket piece" had ex- 
ploded for the first and only time, discharging all of 
the five heavy loads at once with a shock that sent 
the unsteady Irishman sprawling on his back. "Be 
jabbers," he cried, with a good-natured grimace, "I 
gave it to 'em, but she gave me a tremendous pounce." 

In reality the old weapon had been the means of help- 
ing the pioneers win the battle. The Indians who 
were already getting somewhat discouraged felt quite 
disheartened when they heard (as they believed) the 
report of a cannon from the walls. They stood in awe 
of the white men's "big guns," and the sound of the 
explosion unnerved them to such a degree that they 
relaxed their efforts and acted with a hesitancy that 
the pioneers were quick to see and profit by. The In- 

163 



Old Tales Retold, 

dian leaders also saw their braves falter. They grew 
desperate, and determined to fire the walls. Soon a 
number of blazing pine knots were seen trailing 
through the moonlight toward the fort. But several 
of the torchbearers were shot down as they ventured 
too near, and the others hung back, irresolute. Not 
a man among them appeared willing to repeat the at- 
tempt until one, more hardy than the rest, leaped for- 
ward suddenly and gained the wall in safety. Agile 
as a monkey, he began to climb, pine torch in hand. 
As his dark form scaled the corner of the blockhouse 
numbers of the sharpshooters focused their aim upon 
him, and being unused to failure in firing, they were 
amazed to see that he was still untouched. The dusky 
army outside began to cry exultantly : "White man's 
bullets cannot harm him. It is Chia-Chatt-Alla, The 
White Man Killer. See him go to the top !" 

In truth his hands were already clutching the pro- 
jecting clapboards, and instantly, with a pantherlike 
bound, he sprang upon the roof. The white marks- 
men were bewildered to see their well-aimed bullets 
whiz harmlessly past the audacious chief, as he ran 
with perfect ease along its sloping side, then bent his 
supple body and held the torch close against the dry 
wood. The roof, as they knew, would soon flame up, 
and the white men grew frantic in their efforts to dis- 
able the incendiary, in the next second, before the 
mischief should be done. A rain of bullets fell harm- 
less around the stooping, half-naked figure. "He is 
safe !" shouted his followers, boastfully. "White 
man's lead is harmless to Chia-Chatt-Alla." 

That instant a bullet hit him, barely in time to save 
the fort. The roof had not yet been ignited, when his 

164 



Night Assault on Buchanan s Station. 



body and the blazing torch rolled together, over and 
over, down to the eaves and off to the ground. But 
a short distance from the wall lay Chia-Chatt-Alla in 
the agony of a mortal hurt, yet his spirit was still un- 
conquered. He dragged himself a few feet nearer, 
close enough to thrust the burning brand under the 
bottom log of the blockhouse, in a last effort to fire the 
building. He blew the failing torch with his still more 
rapidly failing breath, and summoned his remaining 
strength to call aloud to his warriors, saying: "Fight 
on like brave men. Never give up till you have taken 
the fort." 

Before he had succeeded in reviving the blaze the 
touch of another bullet ended his life. When the 
warriors found that their chief was dead, they turned 
and fled into the woods in utter rout, leaving behind 
them the bodies of all who had fallen in the fight. 

While all this was going on, Mistress Phcebe had 
remained hidden in her room, with her fingers in her 
ears to keep out the sounds of battle. The firing of 
guns, the baying of excited bloodhounds, and the yells 
of savages had almost driven her distracted. Pres- 
ently a wild plan took shape in her mind. Lest the 
warriors should burst in upon them to tomahawk her 
children and herself, she resolved to go outside and 
give themselves up as captives to be led away into the 
Indian nation. W'ith this desperate purpose apparent 
in her eyes, she caught her little ones by the hands 
and led them through several deserted rooms and pas- 
sages until she came to a large central apartment where 
the people were gathered, rejoicing over the victory of 
which she had not yet heard. Seeming not to see any 
one in the gloomy light shed over the room by an iron 

165 



Old Tales Retold. 

grease lamp suspended from the wall, she was hurry- 
ing past when Mrs. Buchanan called to her cheerily: 
"What in the world are you going to do, Phoebe?" 

"To surrender," said Phoebe, over her shoulder, 
without pausing in her flight to the door. 

"Never, so long as there is life in this body!" cried 
Sallie Buchanan, barring the way with her goodly 
form. "Go back to your room and keep out of the 
way. We have whipped the Indians. We are all safe 
now." Looking about her, the fear-stricken creature 
was forced to realize that this must be so. She saw 
groups of men and women everywhere about the room 
laughing and talking about their experiences in the 
fight, and on every side she heard the joyful words: 
"They are gone. Every Indian has left, and none of 
us are hurt !" It was true, though it seemed little short 
of a miracle, that in the night assault on Buchanan's 
station eight hundred savages had been repelled by 
twenty-one men and a few brave women, not one of 
whom had been wounded; no, not with the slightest 
scratch. Scarcely had the assailants disappeared when 
Captain Rains came in sight of the fort with five of 
his men. Among the number was young Joseph 
Brown, who at the age of nineteen years had already 
become a noted border soldier under Rains and Gor- 
don. 

Riding up close to the stockade, Brown, to his aston- 
ishment, saw lying there the body of the same Chick- 
amauga chief, Chia-Chatt-Alla, who had taken him 
captive at Nickajack. He at once, as he afterwards 
wrote, recognized his "old chum Chatt, who lay dead, 
pierced with balls shot down into his body while he 
was blowing the coals to fire the fort." 

166 



Night Assault on Buchanan s Station. 

John Davis, another member of Rains's band, testi- 
fied, on the other hand, that, though he had many 
wounds, only one bullet had struck Chia-Chatt-Alla 
after his body had rolled to the ground. Davis averred 
that, as the ball was fired from above, it had entered 
the top of the Indian's head and, owing to his crouch- 
ing position at the time he was killed, pierced his body 
with six holes. 

167 



XIV. 

NICKAJACK, OR PROPHECY FULFILLED. 

Long ago, when there were but few white men set- 
tlers west of the Alleghanies, Jack, a negro slave in 
the Watauga country, ran away from his pioneer mas- 
ter and took to the woods for freedom. Along the 
paths of the wild he went for a hundred miles or 
more southward, until he reached the river Kalam- 
uchee (Tennessee), where it dips down near to Ala- 
bama at a point about thirty-six miles below Lookout 
Mountain. By some means he crossed the wide 
stream to a strip of woods on the other shore, lying 
between the river and the abrupt end of Sand Moun- 
tain. The wood was in a region unknown at that 
time to white men and uninhabited by Indians. Jack, 
believing himself to be safe here from pursuit, paused 
in his flight and began to look about for a resting 
place. In his search he came to the wide, lofty en- 
trance to a cave at the base of the mountain — an open- 
ing in the rocks so spacious that the creek which 
flowed out of it occupied scarcely a fourth of its 
width. Here was a perfect shelter from wind or rain, 
a safe place in which to build a fire without danger of 
being betrayed by ascending smoke. Glad of his good 
fortune, the negro made his home in the cave. There 
he slept and cooked and ate in fancied security, not 
knowing that he was in the evil-famed Te-Calla-See, 
the cavern to which the Chickamaugas, who then lived 

1 68 



Nickajack, or Prophecy Fulfilled. 

on Chickamauga Creek above Lookout Mountain, were 
in the habit of fleeing when hard pressed by enemies ; 
nor did he dream that it was the secret storehouse 
to which they brought the plunder they had stolen 
from other tribes or from the whites. The collection 
of bad Indians and outcast white men who went under 
the name of Chickamaugas were counted, even among 
red men, as bandits and robbers, and Te-Calla-See was 
known as their den. Here it was that their chief, 
Dragging Canoe, hiding from John Sevier's horse- 
men, had lain for months on his buffalo robe in the 
mouth of the cave, nursing his wounds and sulking 
over his defeat at Island Flats, refusing to come in 
after every other Cherokee chief had smoked the peace 
pipe with the victorious whites. No paleface had ever 
ventured to the neighborhood of the cave. No In- 
dians other than the Chickamaugas lingered about it. 
All else glided swiftly by with muffled paddles on the 
bosom of Kalamuchee. For the mysterious hole in 
the ground was more terrifying to the superstitious 
braves than all the perils of navigation in the narrows 
of the Tennessee they must pass through on the way 
between Lookout Mountain and the cave. 

The day naturally came when, in one of their ex- 
cursions to the cavern, the Chickamaugas found the 
runaway negro in their hiding place. From that day 
the cave was known as Te-Calla-See no more. In 
memory of the intruder it was called by the Indians, 
in broken English, Nicka-Jack Cave. What more the 
savages did to poor negro Jack than give his name to 
their den, neither history nor folklore tells. 

For some years the region continued to be shunned 
by all save the Chickamaugas, who came in time to use 

169 



Old Tales Retold. 

It for a shelter while they waited to waylay parties of 
white immigrants who began about the year 1773 to 
travel by water to the southern country around Natch- 
ez, Miss. So often were these parties wrecked and 
robbed by the bandits of the Narrows that Virginia and 
North Carolina finally sent an army under Colonels 
Evan Shelby and John Montgomery, who destroyed 
every Chickamauga village around Lookout Mountain 
and killed many of the braves. The remaining war- 
riors, with their families, fled to the great cave, where 
they lived until they could build near it the town of 
Nickajack, on the river bank, and four other villages, 
including Tuskigagee (Running Water), a few miles 
higher up the stream. One of the first acts of the 
Chickamaugas after building these villages, called the 
lower towns, was to fire on John Donelson's com- 
pany of pioneers who were "intending, by God's per- 
mission, to go to the French Salt Spring" on the Cum- 
berland (the future site of Nashville). And later 
they followed the immigrants to their new homes, 
often going across country to fall on them unexpect- 
edly, and then retreat so rapidly to their den that pur- 
suit by the pioneer soldiers was hopeless, and capture 
of the savages almost impossible. 

These were the same bad Indians who made the 
assault on Buchanan's Station. It was they who cap- 
tured Colonel Brown's boat, killed him and his three 
sons, and held the rest of his family captives. 

Where all these things happened sixty-five railway 
trains now pass daily over the old site of Nickajack. 
The woods at the foot of the mountain have long since 
given place to level fields with farmhouses here and 
there on the broad plain. Everything seems changed 

170 



Nickajack, or Prophecy Fulfilled. 

except the cavern. From car windows on the N., C, 
and St. L. Railway travelers who pass Shell Mound, 
a station in Marion County, Tenn., will notice the 
river almost lapping the car wheels on one side of the 
tracks; and on the other, nearly a mile distant, may 
plainly see an opening fifteen feet high and ninety 
feet wide gaping as of old under the head of Sand 
Mountain. It is Nickajack Cave. The way from the 
station to the cavern is through a long lane which di- 
vides the fields that lie between it and the river. The 
approach is favorable to illusions. With the back 
turned on all that pertains to the present, and facing 
the open mouth of Nickajack, you fall under the spell 
of the past. If the hour is toward evening when the 
shadows come down to meet you from the mountain, 
you may be startled once or twice, in walking up the 
lane, by the consciousness of a colossal human figure 
sitting at ease in the entrance of the cave. You stop 
to look, and it is gone. A few yards forward, and, 
out of the corner of the eye, it is again seen. A full 
gaze proves that no one is there. Another advance, 
and a quick side glance catches the figure, seeming now 
to sit bolt upright as if at the approach of footsteps. 
A careful examination follows, upon which the black, 
woolly head of the apparition is seen to be a deep, 
round hole in the left-hand wall of the entrance — noth- 
ing more ; the folds of the gray blanket around the 
massive shoulders are but projections of jutting stone, 
and the lengthy limbs are, plainly, only two layers of 
granite. With an effort, the influence of the past is 
shaken off to make way for practical thoughts. Yet, 
after all, as you retrace your steps to the railway, the 
irregular outline of the rocks, seen at various angles 

171 



Old Tales Retold. 

of distance, over the shoulder, is mightily suggestive 
of Negro Jack taking a breath of free air in the mouth 
of Te-Calla-See. 

The Cumberland settlers had suffered long and 
grievously before Gen. James Robertson determined 
that it was his duty to drive the Chickamaugas from 
their haunts at Nickajack and Running Water. No 
less than five hundred of the pioneers had been killed 
by them, and many were held as slaves in captivity. 
Thousands of dollars' worth of horses and other prop- 
erty had been stolen, fields had been laid waste, and 
houses burned. It has been justly claimed that in 
proportion to population "no part of the west, no part 
of the world suffered more, and none resisted more 
bravely than the frontiers of Tennessee." 

In the autumn of 1794 General Robertson received 
news that still another Indian raid was to be expected. 
He considered this to be a fit time to attack the sav- 
ages in their own towns, where they felt as safe as 
the panther in his lair, boasting that Chucky Jack 
(John Sevier) himself would never be able to reach 
them. 

With this intention a body of pioneer soldiers was 
sent by Robertson to invade the heart of their country. 
They were led by Joseph Brown, who alone knew 
the way, by secret paths, to the spot where he had 
suffered in captivity. At dusk one day in September, 
1794, the white army reached a point on the Tennessee 
River called "The Great Crossing," three miles below 
where Nickajack lay on the opposite shore, near Run- 
ning Water. As soon as night came on the soldiers 
began, under cover of darkness, to construct rafts of 
cane and driftwood lashed together with rushes, upon 

172 



Nickajack, or Prophecy Fulfilled, 

which to cross the swollen stream that spread itself 
three or four miles between them and their enemies. 
In the meantime, the officers were laying plans for 
the attack, based on information furnished by young 
Brown, and finally adopted the suggestion of Andrew 
Jackson, a youthful military genius in the ranks, who 
proposed that they cross at break of day, make a wide 
circuit of the village, climb the mountain behind it, 
and descend unexpectedly on the inhabitants of the 
two towns. 

Day had not yet dawned when some of the men 
began to move. Too impatient to await their turn 
to embark on the frail boats, they forded the stream on 
horseback. Joseph Brown, though he had a wounded 
arm, swam his horse to the other side in company 
with William Trousdale, John Gordon, and others, 
and there awaited the arrival of the rest of the army, 
two hundred and sixty-five men all told. 

The daring brothers, William and Gideon Pillow, 
had been detailed to carry over a raft laden with 
guns, shot bags, and clothing. Then it was that Wil- 
liam Pillow performed the feat of swimming in front 
of the raft and towing it by a rope held between his 
teeth, while his brother, Gideon, and a comrade pushed 
it, swimming behind. 

When all had crossed, the soldiers fell into ranks 
as quietly as possible, and were led by Brown far 
around to the rear of Nickajack up into the mountains, 
from whence, in two divisions, under Colonels Whit- 
ley and Montgomery, they descended on the villages 
in such a way as to surround them before the sleeping 
inhabitants awoke. The soldiers had crept through 
corn patches and thickets quite close to the wigwams, 

*73 



Old Tales Retold. 

and when their first shot was fired the Indians, leap- 
ing from their beds of skins, dashed past them through 
the thickest of the corn in a run toward the river, where 
they hoped to escape in their canoes. But at the land- 
ing place they were cut off by the whites, and on the 
exact spot where Colonel Brown's crew had been 
killed they were nearly all shot. Scarcely an Indian 
brave was left alive either in Nickajack or Running 
Water when the fight was over. The towns of the 
bad Indians were completely destroyed. The Breath 
and nearly every one of his warriors were put to 
death, and the squaws, with their children, were placed 
in a wigwam as prisoners under guard. Huddled 
there together, weeping and moaning, the women sud- 
denly beheld a sight that made them tremble with re- 
doubled fears. In the doorway, looking attentively at 
them, stood a white man whom they recognized as the 
boy, now grown up, who had been so cruelly treated 
by them in the past. As if they had seen an avenging 
ghost, they shrank back from the man's fixed gaze. 
The fat old squaw who had tried so hard to have 
him killed cried aloud: "Our time has come to die! 
It is but just for him to take vengeance on us." The 
others crouched dumb before his long, silent inspec- 
tion. It was the good squaw who had taken Brown's 
little sister Polly for her own who ventured at last to 
remind Joseph that, after all, his life had been spared. 
"Then spare the women of our tribe," she pleaded 
softly, "for it was through a woman's kindness that 
you were saved." 

"Have no fear," was the generous reply; "it is 
only savages who kill women and children." 

174 



Nickajackj or Prophecy Fulfilled. 

"O, that is good news for the wretched," cried the 
reassured squaw, clapping her hands. 

As soon as the women realized that they were safe 
their tongues were loosed, and they began to question 
Brown and express their astonishment at the sudden- 
ness of the attack. 'Where did you come from?" 
asked Polly Mallette, when he had kindly taken her 
hand ; "we never expected to see you again." 

"Did your soldiers drpp from the clouds?" de- 
manded others. 

"We did not drop from the clouds, nor did we 
sprout from the ground," answered Joseph Brown 
quietly, "but you must know that white men are not 
to be evaded. We go where we please, and we can- 
not be turned back." In explanation, he said further, 
"We did not wish to kill the men of your tribe, but 
they have forced us to do so." 

Only one woman among them had not expressed 
surprise at the return of Joseph Brown. The mother 
of Cutleotoy remembered that this was exactly what 
she had expected. Did she not warn the braves from 
the first that the boy, if allowed to live, would "get 
away and return some day bringing with him an 
army of white men, who would destroy them utterly ?" 
Everything had happened just as she predicted, in 
strange fulfillment of the squaw's prophecy. 

The nest of bandits was completely broken up. 
By the destruction of Nickajack and Running Water 
the white people were rid of their most dangerous 
enemies. There was never, after this event, any im- 
portant incursion of savages into the Cumberland 
settlements. 

175 



XV. 

THE SOVEREIGN'S WILL. 

The young State of Tennessee was justly proud 
of her first two United States Senators, William 
Cocke and William Blount. Blount was especially 
admired by the people among whom he lived in the 
eastern part of the State. Already he and his lovely 
wife, Mary Grainger, had endeared themselves to the 
public while he was Governor of the "Territory South- 
west of the Ohio" before that thinly settled section had 
inhabitants enough to entitle it to enter the Union as 
the State of Tennessee. The Governor's life of court- 
ly elegance had given no offense to the pioneer fam- 
ilies in the backwoods settlements because both he and 
his accomplished wife had, with true kindness of heart, 
always made the roughest countrymen who came to 
their mansion feel thoroughly at ease by their gra- 
cious manners. Consequently their rustic neighbors 
greatly admired them. They were proud to claim 
familiar acquaintance with the distinguished states- 
man and his lady. And there was scarcely a man in 
all the country, however humble he might be, who 
would not have risked his life for the aristocratic 
Blount. Being peculiarly the people's pet, it is not 
surprising that they should take his part against the 
whole world. I will tell you of an instance in which 
the people upheld their favorite in defiance of the 
power of the United States Government. 

176 



The Sovereign's Will. 

In the summer of 1797 charges were brought 
against Blount in the United States Senate on account 
of a private letter he had written to a friend in which 
it was claimed he used "seditious and treasonable 
words." This was the grave charge, but the people 
at home declared it was false. Blount's innocence was 
established in their minds as soon as he wrote to them 
from Washington, saying: "I hope the people on the 
western waters will see nothing but good in it, for 
so I intended it, especially for Tennessee." 

Public confidence in Blount was such that every 
voter believed in him at once, and believed in him to 
the end. Though he was impeached, and finally ex- 
pelled from the Senate, his standing at home was not 
hurt in the least. His neighbors were sure that Blount 
had done no wrong. Believing that he had been un- 
fairly accused and harshly judged, they welcomed their 
discredited Senator home with open arms. In Knox- 
ville he was received with marks of respect that 
amounted to an ovation. 

And this was not all. In the course of a few 
weeks James Mathers, Sergeant-at-Arms of the Unit- 
ed States Senate, followed Blount from Washington 
City to Knoxville. But the purpose of his mission 
was a secret. It was whispered by the knowing ones 
that Mathers had come to arrest Senator Blount. 
Then the wise ones put their heads together and 
formed a plan; and the result was that the most 
prominent men of the town began to pay the officer 
of the United States Senate all sorts of hospitable 
attentions. According to their concerted scheme, 
Mathers was dined here and banqueted there. He 
was feasted and toasted on every hand with the most 
12 177 



Old Tales Retold. 

flattering cordiality. Even in the residence of Gov- 
ernor Blount he was the honored guest. All the 
while, the officer said nothing about his business. How 
could he tell those friendly Tennesseeans that he had 
come among them to carry away by force their most 
distinguished and best-beloved citizen? 

Mathers was entertained as though he were a pub- 
lic benefactor, day after day, and still he had not the 
courage to speak his errand. As the people contin- 
ued to heap favors upon him, his situation became 
more and more embarrassing, for the time had come 
when the arrest could be put off no longer. The 
Sergeant-at-Arms must do his duty, no matter how 
unpleasant the task might be. With delicate consid- 
eration for his host, he concluded to tell Senator 
Blount privately that he had been sent to conduct him 
to Washington City, thinking by this means to give 
his prisoner the chance to go along with him quietly, 
without attracting public attention. But to Mathers's 
surprise, Blount was not at all disconcerted by the 
news that he was to be arrested. The accused states- 
man looked the officer in the face and remarked that 
he did not desire nor intend to go to Washington at 
that time. Not knowing what to say next, the abashed 
officer withdrew in confusion. There was nothing left 
for him to do but summon a posse, in accordance with 
the forms of law, to help him arrest his man. 
But this attempt failed also. Not a soul answered the 
summons. Clearly Mathers could not take his pris- 
oner single-handed, so he was forced to call on the 
public at large to help him perform his duty. And 
again not a man responded to the appeal. 

The Sergeant-at-Arms was completely baffled. He 

178 



The Sovereign's Will. 



<b 



saw that he must go back on the road he had come 
without delay, though he would go without his pris- 
oner. The day he started on his long journey a 
number of his Tennessee hosts (still as polite as 
Frenchmen) gathered about him on horseback. With 
every show of courtesy, they escorted him out of 
Knoxville. After riding several miles on the way 
with him they stopped and, bowing low to the Ser- 
geant-at-Arms, bade him a smiling adieu, saying: 
"We beg to assure you, sir, that William Blount can- 
not be taken from Tennessee." After mature delib- 
eration, the United States Senate wisely accepted this 
declaration as being the will of the sovereign people, 
and withdrew all charges of treason against Senator 
William Blount. This goes to prove that there are 
times when the will of the people who are governed is 
superior to the government itself. 

179 



XVI. 

A TYPICAL PIONEER LIFE. 

It was early in the nineteenth century. The town 
of Nashville numbered full five hundred inhabitants. 
Several long, straight streets crossed the space be- 
tween the cedar-covered "knob" and the bluffs on 
the Cumberland, where formerly buffalo paths had 
wound through thick canebrakes. No less than four 
or five storehouses bordered the main street, and 
on other streets were a number of comfortable dwell- 
ings, a few of them being frame or brick, one or two 
of which were distinguished by glass windows. The 
stone house of Captain John Gordon, the frontier 
soldier, who was the first postmaster of the place, 
and the hewn cedar log cabin of Timothy De Mon- 
breun, the earliest of hunters and traders on the 
Cumberland, were fast becoming old landmarks. A 
fine log courthouse, a tavern, and a market house 
adorned the square not far from the old fort which 
had fallen into decay since the Nickajack expedition 
had put an end to Indian alarms. By this time, also, 
there were several churches in Nashville, in which 
the Revs. James McCready and Jeremiah Lambert 
held fervid religious revivals, arousing sinners, and, 
as it was said, "driving the people distracted" with 
their stirring sermons. Here too was the Davidson 
Academy, where children were called to "books" by 
the learned Rev. Thomas Craighead. It was the same 

1 80 



A Typical Pioneer Life. 

school which James Robertson had induced the Leg- 
islature of North Carolina to charter in 1785, in an- 
swer to the petition of the boys and girls of the Cum- 
berland country. The people in those days no longer 
had to go about altogether on horseback. Wagons 
and occasional carriages were to be seen upon the 
streets, and where not long since only Indian canoes 
had shot through the current of the Warioto a ferry- 
boat now plied the stream, which the whites had 
named the Cumberland, for the convenience of all 
who might wish to cross the river. 

In those earnest times each citizen felt himself to 
be the guardian of the public good, and on a certain 
day it chanced that nearly every man in town was at 
a meeting presided over by Gen. James Robertson, in 
which matters of importance to all were being dis- 
cussed. The streets w T ere deserted, and the ferryboat 
lay idle, tied up on the Nashville side of the river, the 
negro ferryman having taken advantage of his mas- 
ter's absence to leave his post, when a handsome young 
horseman, dressed in military fashion, rode down to 
the opposite, eastern shore, and hallooed loudly. No 
answer came. Again the soldier called "Heigh-ho ! 
Heigh-ho ! there," impatient to be set across. Dead 
silence followed the shout. The ferryboat, tugging 
at its chain, as it swayed on the heavy swells of a 
spring freshet, was the only moving object to be 
seen beyond the restless current. There was appar- 
ently not a man within hail of Gideon Pillow, the 
rider who had traveled far to bring momentous dis- 
patches touching the public safety to General Rob- 
ertson. With still an effort to attract attention, the 
messenger shouted through his hands as through a 

181 



Old Tales Retold. 

trumpet, a few words telling the urgent nature of his 
errand, but was only answered by the echo of his own 
voice. Young Pillow began to think that if he crossed 
at all he must venture to swim the swollen Cumber- 
land as he had once dared the Tennessee when he won 
distinction at Nickajack. 

While he hesitated, looking doubtfully beyond the 
rolling waters, he saw on the other side a girl, young 
and slenderly formed, running along a path descend- 
ing from the bluff to the landing place. He could 
scarcely believe that one so unfitted for the task would 
attempt to row the ferryboat across the rushing river 
until the girl had actually unfastened the chain, leaped 
on board the unwieldy craft, and pushed out into 
mid-stream. He watched her in amazement as she 
battled with the volume of water that surged against 
the upper side of the boat and noted with pleased sur- 
prise the strength of sinew in the rounded arms, 
though the slight figure bent low as to an unaccustomed 
task. As she neared the bank he discovered beauty 
in the maiden not noticeable at a distance. He was 
smitten with the light in her eyes, and his heart was 
caught in the meshes of her bright brown hair, that 
fell in wonderful braids below the hem of her frock. 
Yet, much as he admired her charms of face and 
form, the soldier was even more captivated by the 
courage she had displayed. A brave soul himself, he 
could appreciate the spirit which had animated Annie 
Payne in steering the boat to his assistance. And 
when in answer to his questions she had simply said, 
"I was glad to come, sir. In helping you to serve 
General Robertson I do but help you serve your coun- 

182 



A Typical Pioneer Life. 

try," he needed no further proof that her fair person 
was fitly matched by her noble character. 

Such was the beginning of a love story which re- 
sulted in a wedding and an "infair," a three days' 
feast, during which the good neighbors from all the 
country round came to congratulate the gallant bride- 
groom as, resplendent in velvet coat and lace, with 
buff-colored knee breeches and buckles and ruffles 
and ribboned cue, he stood beside the bride in her 
short-waisted brocade gown, veiled with a shower of 
shining hair whose extreme length the bridesmaids 
had sheared even with the border of the bridal robe. 
Here the story might end by saying, "They lived hap- 
py ever afterwards," for there was no happier pair, 
perhaps in all the world. But this were to leave un- 
told their life in the wilderness of Maury County, 
where a few years later Gideon Pillow went with his 
wife and two young children to seek his fortune in the 
fertile country then recently ceded to the white peo- 
ple by the Indians. It would be to say nothing of the 
journey thither by wagon, with household goods, live 
stock, and servants, nor tell how in the new clearing, 
surrounded by miles of uncut cane, Annie Payne Pil- 
low placed her simple furnishings on the bare ground, 
waiting while the log walls of their first rude dwelling 
rose around her. 

Here for a while she lived fearlessly and cheerfully 
in the woods, though she might often be startled by 
the near scream of a panther or be awakened at night 
by the howling of wolves. It was not long, however, 
before the cabin was replaced by a permanent home, 
around which were fields and barns where flocks and 
herds multiplied. The growl of wild beasts had giv- 

183 



Old Tales Retold. 

en place to the cheerful sounds of loom and wheel 
whose constant bang and whirl testified to the indus- 
try of the young housewife. Under her skillful man- 
agement lard was rendered in its season and bacon 
cured. Soap was made in huge kettles, and tubs of 
snowy starch were pressed out from pounded wheat. 
At her command dairy and poultry yard, beehives, 
orchards, and maple trees, all yielded table delicacies 
in abundance, while her husband directed the labors 
that produced cotton and wool for clothing, and 
grain and stock for food. In truth the young pio- 
neers in their clearing in the wilderness were quite 
independent of the world which they seemed to have 
left forever behind them. Had the government itself 
been financially ruined, they would scarcely have felt 
the difference, for they had small need of money in 
their simple, rational life. Yet money, too, came in 
the course of years, as the country around them be- 
came thickly populated. 

In the meantime there was nothing to interrupt their 
peace of mind unless it was a slight uneasiness when 
occasional bands of friendly Indians would wander 
back, in small parties, to haunt their old hunting 
grounds. Although the savage visitors usually en- 
tered the house unexpectedly and without ceremony, 
there appeared to be no real cause to fear them. All 
that was usually needed to keep the braves in fine 
humor until they chose to leave was some trifling 
gift — a piece of scarlet cloth, a string of beads, or a 
bright-colored picture, with the words : "They are 
yours. Give them to the squaw." 

Nevertheless, Annie Payne Pillow had need of all 
her courage once when the Indians came. It was 

184 



A Typical Pioneer Life. 

during her husband's absence from home. She was 
alone in her room, except for her baby Gideon, who 
was asleep in his cradle. Suddenly a shadow fell 
on the wall before her — the shadow of a man with 
tomahawk in hand ready to strike. She sprang to 
her feet, and turned to face a band of Cherokees. 
Almost as she turned the leader of the band had 
seized the would-be murderer, and with a powerful 
grip had hurled him out of doors, saying by way of 
apology for his follower, in the best English he 
knew, "Heap much whisky make bad Injun." Then 
leaning his gun against the wall he extended a hand, 
in token of friendship, with a short, guttural greeting 
of "How do?" 

The visit was mercifully short. As soon as the 
childish savages had been feasted on battercakes (for 
which they called more rapidly than the cook could 
fry them, saying "Big Injun love heap battercakes") 
and had been loaded with trinkets they were ready to 
go. Hardly were the red men out of sight, though, 
before the drunken one was back again — alone. He 
staggered into the house, lurched over to the cradle, 
and lifting the infant from his pillow made off with 
him as fast as he could go with his unsteady feet. 
The young mother screamed aloud as she pursued 
them into the woods. Fortunately her cry of dis- 
tress reached the Cherokee leader, who hurried back 
to learn the cause of her alarm. 

Among Indians one is accounted base who eats his 
brother's salt and repays the kindness with an injury. 
Such a man is despised even in his own tribe. Ac- 
cordingly, when the chief learned of his warrior's 
shameful act, he promptly seized him by the heels 

185 



Old Tales Retold. 

and ran off with him at full speed, dragging him with 
ingenious cruelty across a field of sharp-cut canes and 
stubble. The screams of agony which were heard 
trailing off in the distance showed that the kidnaper 
was suffering sufficiently for his crime, and that liq- 
uor had robbed him of the stoicism of the Indian na- 
ture. 

Years afterwards, when the stolen infant had 
grown into the soldier, Gen. Gideon Pillow, con- 
spicuous in his country's wars, his mother, then an 
aged woman, delighted to gather her grandchildren 
and great-grandchildren about her knees and repeat 
to them the story of the drunken Indian and the child. 
Mrs. Annie Payne Pillow, one of the last of the hardy 
race of pioneers who by their courage and self-sacri- 
fice made our present privileges possible, was a note- 
worthy link between the earliest settlers in Tennessee 
and the living generation. Her numerous decendants 
scattered throughout the States have impressed them- 
selves upon the people among whom they live. 

Some have inherited her patriotic zeal and courage 
to meet and overcome difficulties, and in others have 
reappeared her gifts of personal charm, particularly 
in her granddaughter, Miss Narcissa Saunders, who 
was in her day a belle and beauty in Washington City. 
Others of her descendants who are leaders in the com- 
munities in which they live bear witness to the far- 
reaching good influence of a typical pioneer life. 

1 86 




TOMB OF GOVERNOR MERIWETHER LEWIS, 
Erected in Lewis County by the State of Tennessee. 



XVII. 

ON THE NATCHEZ TRACE WITH MERI- 
WETHER LEWIS. 

It is but little known that in the thick of a Ten- 
nessee wilderness lies buried Meriwether Lewis, the 
commander of Lewis and Clark's expedition to the 
Pacific in 1804-06 — a man whose name was once on 
every lip. The reading public of fifty or seventy-five 
years ago was familiar with his career and his fate. 
The account of the expedition published by Biddle 
and Allen in 1814 was then considered fascinating 
literature. Many an aged man still recalls the ex- 
citement of pleasure with which in his youth he read 
the book, remembering that he was held spellbound 
by the recital of the romantic adventures and hair- 
breadth escapes of the forty-four men under Captain 
Lewis, who penetrated to the sources of the Missouri, 
and thence down to the mouth of the Columbia River, 
when the Northwest was yet an unknown land. 

The leader of that expedition came to his death 
under peculiar circumstances while journeying through 
Tennessee in 1809. The Legislature of the State, in 
recognition of his greatness, caused a suitable monu- 
ment to be erected in the wilds of Lewis County, 
where he lies buried. The stately column of lime- 
stone, looming unexpectedly in the heart of a monoto- 
nous woodland, produces an impression of awe. The 
sculptured, broken shaft surmounting a square, pyr- 

187 



Old Tales Retold. 

amidal base of rough-hewn stone, is in striking con- 
trast to the absence of man's art elsewhere in the 
dense forest in which it is hidden. Rising amid pri- 
meval trees, it is enveloped by a solemn silence which 
is rarely disturbed by visitors. The old road con- 
ducting to the place is in many parts so dim as to be 
almost obliterated. 

There was a time though when the Natchez Trace, 
as the road is called, was a thoroughfare of national 
importance, it being the United States post road from 
Nashville to Natchez on the Mississippi. For a num- 
ber of years it was the western boundary line of 
civilization. Originally an Indian trail, it was in 
1801 improved by the United States troops under 
Lieutenant (afterwards Major General) George Pen- 
dleton Gaines, and converted into a public highway. 
This opened up communication with the southern In- 
dian tribes as well as with the French and Spanish 
settlements on the lower Mississippi. 

It was on October the eleventh, when the Natchez 
Trace post road was still new, that Meriwether Lewis, 
then Governor of Louisiana, took his fatal journey 
along that part of it which lies in Lewis County, 
Tenn. It was on or near the spot on which his monu- 
ment stands that he died. Whether he came to his 
death by murder or suicide is a question still unan- 
swered. The cause of the deed has always remained 
a mystery. For two years previous to his death Lewis 
had been Governor of Louisiana. He was then on 
his way from his seat of government in St. Louis to 
Washington City on business connected with his 
department as well as to look after the publication 
of his account of the Western exploration. 

188 



On the Natchez Trace. 

His appointment at the early age of thirty-six years 
to the important position of Governor of Louisiana 
had been largely due to the warm personal attach- 
ment of President Jefferson, to whom he had endeared 
himself while acting as his private secretary. A no- 
ticeable trait of Lewis's character was his ability to 
attract and hold sincere friendship. He had early 
won a powerful friend in the President, and by his 
energy and thoroughness in the performance of every 
duty had remained to the last his special favorite and 
protege. In a memoir of Lewis after his death, Jef- 
ferson wrote of his friend: "His courage was un- 
daunted; his firmness and perseverance yielded to 
nothing but impossibilities ; a rigid disciplinarian, yet 
tender as a father to those committed to his charge; 
honest, disinterested, liberal ; with a sound under- 
standing and a scrupulous fidelity to truth." 

This superlative praise from the "sage of Monti- 
cello" was justified by Lewis's courage in facing the 
dangers of his Western expedition, by his endurance 
of hardships, by the thorough discipline he exercised 
over his command, and by the completeness and effi- 
ciency of his preparations for the journey, though the 
exploration was made on a very limited appropriation 
from the government. The service rendered to his 
country was extraordinary. The expedition resulted 
in confirming to the United States the title to an area 
now comprising the States of Idaho, Washington, 
and Oregon. The information he secured concern- 
ing the botanical, zoological, geographical, and geo- 
logical resources of the country was of permanent 
value. His description of the scenery and his ac- 
count of the peaceable disposition of the Indians he 

189 



Old Tales Retold. 

met created an enthusiasm for settling up the great 
Northwest. The expedition was, in fact, accom- 
plished with success, and to the entire satisfaction of 
the government. 

In 1806, after an absence of two years and five 
months, the exploring party returned triumphant, to 
receive unstinted praise for their services. The pub- 
lished journal of the explorer, which read like a tale 
of fiction, excited universal interest. Every detail 
of the narrative was read with avidity in the days 
when books were fewer than now. Not a scene was 
skipped, from the hour of departure from St. Charles, 
near the mouth of the Missouri River, to the moment 
when Captain Lewis cleared the stream with a bound 
near its source. The interest of readers still followed 
him when, at the instance of a friendly savage, and 
guided by the faithful squaw Sacajawea (the Bird 
Woman), he crossed the dividing range, there to find 
the source of another mighty stream — the Columbia — 
whose winding course he traced westward to the 
big water of the Pacific Ocean. The interest then 
awakened was revived in a slight measure a few 
years ago by the publication of a new edition of the 
once popular work.* 

Aside from the qualities that gained renown for 
Meriwether Lewis, he had traits that made it easy 
for him to win affection. His dignity and courtesy, 
his courage and manly firmness were no less attract- 
ive than his handsome personal appearance which is 
preserved to us in a miniature taken of him in Paris 
at the age of thirty-five. He doubtless owed much 

*The edition by Dr. Elliott Coues. 
190 



On the Natchez Trace. 

of his personal attractiveness to his mother, who, we 
are told, was "perfect in form and feature, and pos- 
sessed of a quick intelligence and a benevolent heart." 
She long survived her renowned son, and we read of 
her later as a very old lady, though still active enough 
to "come pacing home on her pony from a visit to 
a sick neighbor." Early widowed, she sustained 
alone the responsibility of forming her son's princi- 
ples and molding his character. 

Viewing Lewis as an interesting composite of hu- 
man weakness and heroism, it is not hard to under- 
stand the epithet of "Sublime Dandy" which has linked 
itself with his name. Of his heroism he gave early 
proof at the age of nineteen years by saving the 
lives of the pioneers among whom his mother lived 
in Georgia. Mrs. Lewis had moved to that State 
from Virginia at a time when the country was great- 
ly plagued by bands of marauding Indians. On one 
occasion the new settlers had fled to the woods for 
refuge. Tents were struck for the night, and fires 
were brightly blazing for the evening meal when a 
party of savages descended upon the travelers. Con- 
fusion seized the camp. No one knew what to do 
until young Lewis, taking in the situation at a glance, 
put out the fires and helped the men to repel the at- 
tack. 

As a social figure he was conspicuously elegant. 
Attired in blue coat, red velvet waistcoat, buff knee 
breeches, and brilliant shoe buckles (a costume he 
is described as wearing on occasion), Meriwether 
Lewis, the accomplished private secretary of the Pres- 
ident, should have been altogether irresistible to the 
belles of the young republic who adorned Washington 

191 



Old Tales Retold. 

society in the beginning of the nineteenth century. 
Yet, in truth, he was never married. An untold ro- 
mance may have been responsible for this sin of 
omission. Or a possible explanation may be found in 
the fact that he inherited from his father a tendency 
to melancholia, and was subject to moods of deep 
depression. It was with the hope of diverting him 
with new scenes and novel experiences that Jefferson 
had procured for him the command of the Western 
exploring party, as well as the commission of Gov- 
ernor of Louisiana. Jefferson's hopes seemed to be 
fulfilled when, at the end of a few years of exposure 
and danger in the West, Lewis's mind was apparently 
restored to healthy action. 

This was the traveler who, on the evening of Octo- 
ber II, 1809, halted his roadster on the Natchez 
Trace, in front of Grinder's stand; this was the man 
of affairs hastening to give an account of his steward- 
ship; this the explorer on his way to superintend the 
publication of his valuable journal. But we lose sight 
of the august dignity of his excellency, the Governor, 
we forget the author and discoverer, and have thought 
only for the handsome young soldier, but thirty-eight 
years old, as we see him riding to his death. 

All day his spirits have been weighed down by 
gloom. So intense was his melancholy that his fel- 
low-traveler, Mr. Neely (United States Indian Agent), 
was uneasy about Lewis's condition. According to 
the statement made by Mr. Neely afterwards to Pres- 
ident Jefferson, he had himself been obliged to tarry 
at a point ten miles back of Grinder's to recover stray- 
ing horses, and had seriously opposed Lewis's deter- 
mination to go on without him. But though Neely 

192, 



On the Natchez Trace. 

argued of the unsettled state of the country, with the 
highway infested as it was with robbers and cut- 
throats, and reminded him of the personal responsi- 
bility he felt for his safety, he could not turn the 
Governor from his purpose of pursuing his journey 
alone. Insisting that it was important for him to 
proceed, Lewis hurried ahead, accompanied only by 
his Spanish body servant and an Indian guide, with 
the intention of going as far as possible that day. He 
reached Grinder's stand at dark, and resolved to stop 
there for the night, as the next place of entertain- 
ment was many miles distant. Like most of the back- 
woods hostelries of those rude times, Grinder's house 
was only a log cabin. The remains of a stick-and- 
stone chimney still mark the spot it occupied, with a 
sad little mound near the monument. On that partic- 
ular evening Grinder was not at home. In his stead, 
his wife appeared in answer to Lewis's lusty halloo. 
She looked searchingly at the three men. Turning 
from the foreign face of the servant to that of the 
bronze savage, she took alarm, and was not reassured 
by a glance at the gloomy features of the white 
stranger. Her conclusion was that she could not 
give them entertainment in the absence of her hus- 
band. But after long parleying Lewis persuaded her 
to admit them on condition that the travelers should 
confine themselves to one of the two detached cabins 
in the yard, and leave her and her small children un- 
disturbed in the family room. 

Not offering to give the men supper, the woman 
shut herself in her cabin and retired for the night. 
About three o'clock in the morning she heard firing. 
Other noises followed, to which she listened attentive- 

13 193 



Old Tales Retold. 

ly. Some one was groaning outside, and she thought 
she heard the words, "It is hard to die," but she was 
afraid to unlatch the door and go to the sufferer's aid. 
Presently she could distinguish the sound of the gourd 
scraping against the almost empty water bucket which 
was on the shelf outside. Evidently the wounded 
man was thirsty, and there was little, if any, water in 
the pail. It was pitiful, yet the woman dared not go 
out until broad daylight, by which time the noises had 
all ceased. Everything was quiet when she opened 
the door to find that the strangers had all vanished. 
Their horses were also gone from the stable, and there 
was no trace of them to be found anywhere. It was 
not until nearly noon that a clue of any sort was dis- 
covered. In the meantime Grinder had returned and 
the mail rider, Robert Smith, had stopped at the 
stand on his regular journey from Natchez to Nash- 
ville. Together the two men made a search which 
ended in their finding the dead body of Meriwether 
Lewis lying under a tree near the house. His fatal 
wound had come from a bullet which struck him 
under the chin and passed out through the top of the 
skull. No one knew then nor has ever learned cer- 
tainly since how the great man came to his death. 
The matter was discussed throughout the United 
States, and there were many differing opinions ex- 
pressed on the subject. Mr. Jefferson, after taking 
pains to collect all the evidence he could gather at 
such great distance from the scene as to the cause 
of his friend's tragic fate, concluded that it was an 
act of suicide, committed in a fit of mental depression. 
But the family of Governor Lewis thought differently. 
They argued that if he had destroyed himself his 

194 



On the Natchez Trace. 

money and the many valuables he was known to have 
had upon his person would have been found, whereas 
neither the one nor the other was ever brought to 
light. "And where," they asked, "were his followers 
and the three horses?" All the circumstances led 
them to believe that the Spanish servant (with the 
Indian probably as an accomplice) had murdered and 
then robbed their master. 

Another theory adopted by many was that Grinder 
had killed him. But though the keeper of the stand 
was afterwards arrested and tried, he was acquitted 
of the crime. Singular to relate, the evidence in the 
trial was torn from the record by some unknown hand 
in later years. It has been claimed by others that an 
investigation of the facts indicates that Grinder's son- 
in-law committed the murder, and that though he was 
strongly suspected at the time, he was not arrested 
because he was a half-breed Indian, and it was feared 
that his trial and punishment might involve the bor- 
der settlements in a disastrous war with the savages. 

Whoever did the deed, the country people believed 
that the murderer or murderers, becoming alarmed 
by the groans which had disturbed Mrs. Grinder, had 
hastily hidden the stolen pouch of gold coins in the 
earth and then had fled, intending to come back later 
and get the booty. But as hue and cry was raised 
throughout the land, it was thought that the thieves 
did not dare to return. Quite naturally, superstition 
has added liberally to the story. Simple folk there 
are who believe that the gold lies hidden to this day 
in the ground on the very spot where Meriwether 
Lewis was buried, not far from the remains of Grind- 
er's cabin, on the old Natchez Trace. 

195 



Old Tales Retold. 

Recalling other historic associations connected 
with the old road, it seems invested with an air of 
wild romance. Along this route traveled Aaron Burr 
when on his way to interview General Jackson before 
visiting the island home of' Blennerhasset in the Ohio. 
We can see, in imagination, the gifted man, who has 
been called the "Benedict Arnold of politics," riding 
along the lonely way, weaving schemes to tempt, if 
possible, Andrew Jackson, the very bulwark of free 
government, to join in his treasonable plot to form a 
great western empire of which Burr was to be the 
ruler. Happily, as we know, his artful sophistries 
failed to draw Old Hickory into his plans. 

Jackson himself traveled the Natchez Trace at an 
early date. Another famous name associated with 
the road was that of Thomas Benton. Long before 
he was a Senator of the United States he lived as a 
rustic youth on the Natchez Trace at a point called 
Gordon's Ferry, where he acted as clerk and book- 
keeper for the pioneer, Capt. John Gordon, who had 
established a commissary where the road crosses 
Duck River. Along this road, when it was but an In- 
dian trail, Captain Gordon had chased many a party 
of hostile Creeks or Choctaws southward. Along its 
northward course he annually sent pack horses to 
Philadelphia with instructions to his men to pur- 
chase from Mr. Meeker or from Evans & Jackson 
(noted merchants in those days) such merchandise 
as was suited to his trading post on the frontier. 

At a later date travel on the old highway was made 
hazardous by the robber band of Murrell, who was the 
Jesse James of his generation, and whose exploits 
furnished numerous themes for border stories. 

196 



On the Natchez Trace. 

To a mind sensitive to impressions it would not 
seem incredible that savages might still be seen lurk- 
ing in the woods through which the ancient warpath 
leads. Remembering Tecumseh's frequent presence 
on the Natchez Trace, the withered leaves of some 
gnarled stump would not be unlike the tawny-red 
figure of the Indian statesman on his way from tribe 
to tribe. It was here he passed along when inaugu- 
rating his well-devised scheme for uniting all the 
southern and northwestern tribes in the general 
uprising against the whites which resulted in the 
massacre at Fort Mimms and led to the Creek war. 
Over this course, too, galloped Red Eagle (William 
Weatherford) when sent on missions to the "war 
party" by Tecumseh. Certain parts of the road were 
also frequented by the astute half-breed chief McGil- 
livray when engaged in his machinations with the 
Spaniards at Natchez to destroy the American settle- 
ments. 

The scenes on the frontier highway have changed 
and passed like the slow shifting of a panorama. 
But a fixed memorial of the times stands, in the 
monument of Meriwether Lewis, apart from the hum 
of modern human interests, in the wilds of the county 
which bears his honored name. 

197 



XVIII. 
THE FIBER OF "OLD HICKORY." 

A dreadful thing had happened , in the Southern 
Alabama country. Six hundred Creek warriors had 
unexpectedly rushed through the gates into Fort 
Mimms and put to death every white human being in 
the fort. Scarce was the massacre over before a 
secret messenger spurred his horse northward to carry 
the news to far-away Tennessee. For where should 
men be found quick to spring to arms if not in the 
"Volunteer State?" And who would be able to stop 
the ravages of the Creeks, what white leader was 
there in all the border land wise enough and bold 
enough to conquer their great half-breed chief, Wil- 
liam Weatherford, unless it was the gifted soldier, 
Andrew Jackson, the Tennesseean whose heart and 
life were pledged to the needs of all Americans alike? 

With all possible haste, the messenger rode the 
long distance between Fort Mimms and Nashville. 
At his journey's end he galloped into the town on the 
bluffs of the Cumberland, halted his tired, reeking 
horse on the Public Square, and shouted aloud the 
story of the massacre to the crowds that gathered 
about him. The people were horrified to hear that 
nearly three hundred white men, women, and chil- 
dren had been put to death with unusual cruelties, 
without a moment's warning, as they were unsus- 
pectingly about to sit down to dinner in that remote 

198 



The Fiber of "Old Hickory." 

Southern stockade. Every white person within reach 
of the Indians had been killed. No quarter had been 
given to any, and few had escaped to tell of the catas- 
trophe. At the pitiful tale indignant cries arose on 
all sides. There was but one feeling, one determina- 
tion among the men of Nashville. The southern In- 
dians must be put down at once and for all time, and 
Tennesseeans must do it. The news leaped, as it 
were, through the air from town to town, almost as 
if there had been telegraph wires in those early days. 
Governor Blount promptly ordered out the militia 
and called for volunteers. In quick response drums 
were beating, fifes were screaming, and companies 
were forming on every muster ground in the State. 
Nothing was talked of, nothing of a public nature 
was thought of, but the Creek war. 

From the place of rendezvous in Fayetteville, Lin- 
coln County, General Jackson was soon ready to 
march southward into the Indian country with two 
thousand militiamen and volunteers, five hundred 
cavalry, and two spy companies of old, trained In- 
dian fighters, to punish the Creeks. It was Jackson's 
fixed resolve, on entering the campaign, to make the 
southern frontiers safe for all time to come. He felt 
that it was necessary to teach the southern Indian 
tribes a lesson they would not forget. But the task 
•he had set himself was no light undertaking; for 
there was a gigantic scheme on foot among the In- 
dians, the British, and the Spaniards to drive the 
Americans from the continent. The intelligent chief, 
Tecumseh, had visited in succession all the tribes 
between the great northern lakes and the gulf, and 
engaged the greater part of them in the plot. The 

199 



Old Tales Retold. 

Spaniards were to supply them with arms from Pen- 
sacola, and the British were to give them aid by 
descending upon the coast cities in various quarters 
while the Americans were occupied elsewhere. The 
war spirit raged among the Creeks after Tecumseh's 
visit. The blood-stained war club, called by them 
the "red stick," was sent from tribe to tribe, and 
around the council fires the older warriors stirred the 
younger ones to zeal by their impassioned speeches. 
The Indian prophets declared that the Great Spirit 
had promised them to keep the warriors safe from 
bullets in battle, and the chief prophet, Monohoe, 
pronounced the country around their principal village 
to be "holy ground" which the Great Spirit would 
never allow to be profaned by a white man's foot. 
In fact, it was to be a fanatical, relentless war against 
the Americans — a series of outrages, of which the 
horrible massacre at Fort Mimms was only the begin- 
ning. 

Yet though the majority of the Creeks joined the 
"war party," a small number of their braves remained 
faithful to their treaties of friendship with the United 
States. They brought on themselves thereby the in- 
tense hatred of their brothers, the "Red Sticks" of 
the war party, and were finally driven, through the 
persecutions of the latter, to seek safety in joining 
themselves to the American forces under General 
Jackson. With the help of these friendly Indians, 
the Tennesseeans were enabled to gain a signal vic- 
tory in the battle of Tallushatchee. In this, their 
first engagement, not a single hostile Indian was left 
alive, though only a few of the whites had been in- 

200 



The Fiber of "Old Hickory/' 

jured by the poisoned arrows and "chewed bullets"* 
of the Creeks. 

Another success quickly followed in the battle of 
Talladega, but Jackson's victories came near ending 
here for want of men to win victories with. Not 
that his soldiers had been killed in battle ; not that they 
had lost courage at sound of the war whoops of the 
Red Sticks. Braver men than the Tennesseeans who 
fought the Creeks in that autumn of 1813 never 
shouldered a musket; yet they were preparing to de- 
sert in a body and return home. The trouble was 
that they were suffering beyond endurance for want 
of rations. The contractors who had undertaken to 
supply the army with food from Tennessee had failed 
to forward the wagon trains of provisions they had 
engaged to send. There was by this time little or 
nothing left to eat in the Indian country, and the 
soldiers saw starvation staring them in the face. They 
thought it hard indeed that they must stay with a com- 
mander who could not feed them, when the route was 
open for them to go back home. They had been told 
too often that the wagons were on the way to believe 
it any longer. In vain General Jackson entreated 
them earnestly not to abandon the war while there 
was anything whatever to sustain life in the camp. 
In vain did he set them the example of grit and 
endurance by himself living on acorns and hickory 
nuts. His appeals fell on deaf ears. His diet of 
nuts only won for him the name of "Old Hickory," 
while the soldiers went on murmuring just the same 

*Bullets which the warriors had cut roughly out of lead 
with their knives and which the squaws had chewed into 
shape with their teeth. 

201 



Old Tales Retold. 

against the hardships of their situation. The time 
for which many of them had enlisted had already ex- 
pired, and the term of others was nearly out, which 
they thought justified them in their discontent. 

The crisis came when after ten days' of gnawing 
hunger one entire wing of the army flatly refused to 
live another day on hope or fight another battle on 
promises. 

Jackson's trusted officer, General John Coffee, 
brought him the startling information, saying: "The 
situation is deplorable, General. All the men and 
officers of the militia alike declare that nothing can 
hold them here longer in this state of starvation." 

It is true that Old Hickory's heart was as gentle as 
a dove at times — but this was not one of the times. 
It has been said by the gifted historian, Col. A. S. 
Colyar, that on hearing the discouraging report, "his 
rage amounted to a cyclone in the wilderness — he 
was simply an organized fury." "What!" he ex- 
claimed with his eyes ablaze; "do they forget already 
that we are here to avenge the atrocities enacted by 
the inhuman Creeks? They must not, shall not, for- 
get. I swear that my army shall not bring disgrace 
upon themselves and their general. They shall not 
desert their post of duty so long as there is breath in 
this body ! No," he cried, shaking his long fore- 
finger menacingly in the direction of the mutineers, 
"they shall not retreat until we have given the cruel 
Creeks cause to long remember Fort Mimms in bit- 
terness and tears." 

"Ah!" replied General Coffee, "if only your in- 
domitable spirit could be infused into the untrained 
militia ! Reason no longer controls them. They have 

202 



The Fiber of "Old Hickory." 

been collecting in their tents, both men and officers, 
talking over their grievances, and the spirit of revolt 
has gained such headway that they have determined 
to leave the camp. Indeed," he continued, "they are 
at this moment drawn up in marching order by com- 
panies, by battalions, by regiments, and brigades, 
with the head of the column turned toward Ten- 
nessee." 

"Do the volunteer regiments still hold firm?" asked 
the commander anxiously. 

"They are disposed to avoid the dishonor of deser- 
tion," responded General Coffee, "yet there is wide- 
spread dissatisfaction. The leaven is working. It is 
only a question of time when they too will revolt." 

It was a mortifying situation for the iron-willed 
Andrew Jackson. Deep frowns wrinkled his brow 
while he pondered gloomily. Presently, turning to 
the officers who surrounded him, he said aloud: "The 
troops are unwilling to wait longer for the provision 
wagons to arrive. Yet should they now abandon the 
cause they have espoused, five thousand exasperated 
savages would be turned loose to imbue their hands 
once more in the blood of defenseless citizens." 

The thin form of the commanding general was 
drawn erect in the saddle as he continued, vehemently 
exclaiming: "What! retrograde under such circum- 
stances? I will perish first! Here I will stay until 
I am ordered back by the authorities at Washington, 
or die in the struggle." Endeavoring to calm himself, 
he presently added: "I will try first, however, to 
save these men from themselves." 

Wheeling his horse, he spurred forward and rode 
toward where the troops were lined up. Approach- 

203 



Old Tales Retold. 

ing them, he said in an impressive voice: "Can it be 
that these brave men before me are about to tarnish 
their own reputation? Can it be said of them that 
they are so lost to humanity as to abandon our sick 
and wounded, who are unable to be moved? Will 
they desert their allies, the friendly Indians who have 
fought with us against their own tribe, leaving them 
to the vengeance of their infuriated kinsmen? No, 
my brave men, a thousand times, no ! We will not 
give up yet. Not until the leader of the massacre of 
Fort Minims is slain or conquered. Never until we 
have overrun the sacrilegious spot which the Red 
Sticks call their 'holy ground' will we turn our faces 
homeward. Though our wants be pressing, I do 
not despond. I have no wish to deceive you. Sup- 
plies are certainly on their way to us. Stay until they 
arrive. If in the meantime we suffer privations, 
remember they are borne for our country." 

The commander cast a searching glance of appeal 
along the lines. Not a responsive word, not a look 
of assent rewarded him. On the contrary, frowns of 
determined resistance were seen on every face. The 
militia officers spoke the word, and the whole body of 
men were in motion to leave the camp. 

Undaunted by their disaffection, Jackson ordered 
the volunteer regiments to form in line across the 
pathway of the mutineers. The artillery was placed 
in readiness to fire, and Capt. John Gordon with his 
spies (who could always be relied upon) was hur- 
ried forward. "Spare the effusion of blood, if pos- 
sible," said Jackson to Captain Gordon, "but do your 
duty in any event." 

The rebellious soldiers were dazed by Jackson's 

204 



The Fiber of "Old Hickory." 

audacity. In bewilderment, they paused. They saw 
that their general was in earnest. Rather than have 
to fight their comrades, they gave way under his un- 
bending will, and returned quietly to their tents. Nor 
did they think less, in doing so, of a leader whose 
resolution was stronger than their own. Jackson's 
boldness and firmness of purpose were openly praised 
throughout the camp by the very men he had defied. 
Boasting that night around the campfires of the cour- 
age he had displayed in opposing a whole army of 
rebels, they loudly cheered "Old Hickory," and the 
name took on a new meaning as his followers de- 
clared that hickory wood was not harder than his un- 
yielding spirit, nor its fiber stronger than his own will. 
The militia were still in fine spirits the next day. 
Seeing that they could not get away, they were mak- 
ing the best of the situation by amusing themselves 
with games and athletic sports, and without complaint 
were cooking for their dinner the only meat they had, 
the refuse portions of spoiled beef. In the midst of 
such peaceful pursuits the mutineers of the day before 
were suddenly ordered to arms. They were called 
upon by their general to put down mutiny elsewhere 
in the camp. The volunteers had in their turn become 
disaffected. As the term for which they had enlisted 
was nearly out, they argued among themselves that 
it would be a useless sacrifice for them to stay in 
camp, suffering and inactive, during the few days 
that remained of their time. With this flimsy excuse 
the volunteers determined to move off in a body, imag- 
ining from the discontent of the rest of the army that 
Jackson would have no means of compelling them to 
stay. But they "reckoned without their host" in sup- 

205 



Old Tales Retold. 

posing that Andrew Jackson would tamely submit to 
their revolt. To their astonishment, when they began 
the move, they found an army of resolute men drawn 
up in line of battle across the road by which they 
were retreating. With grim delight the militia were 
giving them tit for tat. With set faces, they stood 
grasping their rifles in front of the very men who 
had turned them back not twenty-four hours before. 
The volunteers looked at each other in foolish embar- 
rassment, uncertain what to do. While they hesitated 
Old Hickory rode to the front, indignantly demand- 
ing of the disobedient troops: "Why did you quit 
your homes and come into the enemy's country ? Was 
it to abandon your standard? was it to return to your 
families as mutineers and deserters? I say to you 
that you shall not succeed in your mad enterprise but 
in passing over my dead body. The heart of your 
general has been pierced. The first object of his mil- 
itary affection was the volunteers of Tennessee. But 
I have done with entreaty. It has been used long 
enough." The guns of the militia were cocked. The 
match was prepared for the cannon. Bolt upright in 
the saddle the inflexible commander sat, rigid as steel. 
The determination in his eyes was a strong argument 
to the mutineers. They began to talk among them- 
selves of submitting. As if an echo of the affair of 
the day before had lingered in the air, the words, "Let 
us return," passed along the line, after which the offi- 
cers came forward and pledged themselves that their 
men would return to their post of duty. To see the 
volunteers retiring meekly before the militia would 
have been laughable had not the whole situation been 
deeply tragic for the brave, devoted general. 

206 



The Fiber of "Old Hickory:' 

For it was easy to foresee that unless provisions 
should come at once discontent would break out into 
mutiny again. It was not long before the trouble 
came. Jackson had pledged his word that if the 
wagon trains did not arrive within two days he would 
march the army back home. The time was out, and 
the wagons had not been heard from. Murmurs arose 
in every quarter at once. The soldiers insisted, militia 
and volunteers alike, that the promise must be kept. 
They claimed it as their right to be sent back to the 
settlements. 

The general was sorely perplexed. It would be im- 
possible to conquer the Indians if both wings of his 
army failed him; yet he had given his word, and he 
could not stoop to plead with his men again. His 
stout heart was failing under its load of care. With 
his head dropped upon his chest, he sat in his tent 
thinking of his gloomy prospects. Full ten minutes 
had passed since he had spoken a word. His lips 
were drawn close, and not one of the officers who had 
gathered about him ventured to interrupt his silent 
meditations. They could only look sadly at their gen- 
eral and wonder if his indomitable will was at last 
broken. There sat the hope of the people apparently 
in utter dejection. If his spirit were really crushed, 
the loss to the nation would be greater than could ever 
be estimated. While his friends were anxiously 
watching his countenance the great man rose and be- 
gan to pace to and fro with long strides. Evidently 
he was agitated by strong feelings. Suddenly he 
stopped. Facing his officers and throwing up his 
hands he exclaimed in a ringing voice: "If only two 

207 



Old Tales Retold. 

men will stay with me, I will never abandon this 
post." 

Captain Gordon, prompt in action, frank in speech, 
sprang forward, placing his hand upon his breast as 
he said: "You have one, General; I'll stay with you, 
and die with you in the wilderness. Let us look and 
see if we cannot find another." So saying, he hur- 
ried from the tent and mingled at once among the 
troops to make a search for heroes. He was not with- 
out success, for his loyal example was as convincing 
as his words were persuasive. In a short while he 
found one hundred and nine men who agreed to stay 
as long as their country should need them. Jackson 
was deeply touched by the faithfulness of the few 
who were willing to stand by him. For their sakes he 
yielded so far to the wishes of the army as to march 
them all back a short distance toward Tennessee to 
meet the provision wagons, which this time really 
came. 

Trouble with his untrained troops did not end here, 
however. On still another occasion, after they had 
been supplied with food, the army determined once 
more to return to Tennessee. News reached the gen- 
eral that they were already partly on their way. Al- 
most a whole brigade had put itself in motion to go 
off forcibly. Jackson determined to take no middle 
ground. He would prevent them or die. He pursued 
the retreating troops on horseback, and coming up 
with them rode to the front and drew up alone, facing 
the advancing column. "Halt!" he cried. One arm 
hung wounded in a sling. With the other he seized 
a musket and resting it on the neck of his horse he 
pointed it at the head of the moving brigade, and 

208 



The Fiber of "Old Hickory/' 

again cried "Halt !" "Do not come one step farther," 
he called out, "on peril of your lives. I will shoot the 
first man who attempts to pass." 

The column was sullen and silent. In this crisis 
Gordon and the faithful one hundred and nine once 
more came to the rescue. No one being bold enough 
to advance over the line they formed across the road, 
the mutineers again returned to their camp. There 
were other trying scenes for Jackson to pass through 
before the war was over, but in every crisis the cap- 
tain of the spies and his faithful few were by his 
side showing steady opposition to sedition and mutiny. 
They were in front in every fight, always in the place 
of danger throughout the brilliant campaign which 
began with the battle of Tallushatchee and ended 
with the battle of the Horseshoe. 

It was soon after the battle of Tallushatchee, when 
his troubles were thickest around him, that General 
Jackson one day rode off from headquarters unat- 
tended, to seek relief in solitude. He made a wide 
detour about the camp that he might in silence com- 
mune with his Maker and rest his mind in repose on 
the wisdom of an overruling Providence. Uncon- 
sciously, he neared a point where the Indian allies 
were encamped. Opposite to him stood the tent of 
Shelocta, the son of Chinaby, the Path-Killer, a pow- 
erful chief among the friendly Indians, who had joined 
the white army to fight against the Red Sticks. Jack- 
son was arrested, in the act of passing, by a command- 
ing yet courteous gesture from the chief, who came 
forward from his tent to speak with him. 

The general saw that some grave matter was on 
Shelocta's mind, and listened attentively while the 
14 209 



Old Tales Retold. 

chief spoke saying: "My white brother knows that the 
warriors of my tribe joined this war against our own 
countrymen that the treaty entered into a long time 
ago with our Father Washington might not be broken. 
To his friendly arm we hold fast. We will not break 
that charm of friendship we made together. When 
the Red Sticks sent around their war clubs, following 
the path Tecumseh trod to arouse the southern In- 
dians, we refused to join the war party. We were 
for peace. General Jackson's eyes have not been shut 
since that time. He has seen the son of Chinaby fight 
in battle side by side with his white brothers against 
his own people. He knows that Shelocta hates the 
Red Sticks, and that it is not because he loves the 
war party that he asks him now to take pity on a 
nestling from their evil brood. Listen !" said the 
chief, pausing and softly lifting a finger. The faint 
wail of a suffering, exhausted infant reached Jack- 
son's ears from a tent not far away. "It is the young 
Uncover/' explained Shelocta, "the same babe who 
was found on the battlefield of Tallushatchee pressed 
to his dead mother's cold bosom. Though through 
accident the mother's life was taken while the white 
soldiers were fighting their way through the village, 
should the child for that cause be left to starve? 
Does the brave General Jackson make war on women 
and children?" 

"God be my witness that I am innocent of such in- 
tention, Shelocta," answered the General, earnestly. 
"Until this moment I supposed that the infant was well 
cared for by the women of his mother's tribe who were 
taken prisoners at Tallushatchee. It was believed that 
he was being nourished by one of the captive squaws." 

210 



The Fiber of "Old Hickory" 

"The squaws have one and all refused to have 
anything to do with the young Lincoyer," answered 
Shelocta. " 'Let him die/ they say. 'It is the will of 
the Great Spirit. All his people are dead. Why 
should he live? There are none left to care/ Many 
times I urged them, and many times they answered: 
'The tree is hewn down, let the branches wither/ 
Come, your own eyes shall tell you if I speak the 
truth." 

Tall Shelocta's plumes stooped in the doorway as he 
lifted the flapping curtain to allow the general to enter 
the tent where the young child lay. No sooner had 
Andrew Jackson's glance fallen on the wasted form 
of the unfortunate infant than his keen, steel blue eyes 
were dimmed with tears. Together the white and the 
red chief bent over the tiny piece of copper-colored hu- 
manity. Neither spoke. Jackson was thinking of his 
own homeless infancy and recalling the cruelties he 
had suffered in childhood at the hands of Tarletan, the 
British conqueror of his own people in South Car- 
olina. His strong language toward his disobedient 
soldiers may have been at times suggestive of the 
"wisdom of the serpent," but now, certainly, the ten- 
derness of the dove softened the stern soldier's voice 
as he said: "I will take the child under my own pro- 
tection from this time on. See to it, friend Shelocta, 
that he is brought to headquarters at once. And as 
for his future, that shall be attended to. I will re- 
ceive the poor waif into my own household, and have 
him carefully reared under my own eye." 

The promise was faithfully kept. In a short time 
the little Lincoyer was sent to the settlements with 
other prisoners, under escort. When the guard ar- 

211 



Old Tales Retold. 

rived at Nashville they took the child out to Jackson's 
home, the Hermitage, as directed. Here, under the 
roof of the conqueror of his tribe Lincoyer grew up 
to manhood under the care of General Jackson and his 
gentle wife, Rachel Donelson Jackson, but died of 
consumption at the age of eighteen years. For 
though this wild shoot had been transplanted into 
kindly soil, its savage nature wilted under the culture 
of civilization. 

Success, full, complete success finally crowned Jack- 
son's arms. The war party among the Creeks was ut- 
terly broken up. At the battle of Tohopeka (the 
Horseshoe) in the heart of their "holy ground," the 
dead bodies of the false prophets who had claimed to 
be proof against white men's bullets were found strewn 
over the field. Monohoe in particular was a ghastly 
object. The bushy feathers that grotesquely covered 
his head were draggled in dirt and blood and his face 
was disfigured with the cannon shot that caused his 
death. The rattle of his fierce little drum had ceased 
forever. He no longer danced and howled cantations 
to animate the warriors to still greater cruelties. 

Weatherford himself at last surrendered and sued 
for peace. Historians tell us how eloquently he 
pleaded for the safety of his people, and how mag- 
nanimously the terms he craved were granted. We 
have often read that when it was satisfactorily proved 
that he had not been concerned in the massacre of 
Fort Minims, Jackson overlooked his part in the war, 
and saved him from the wrath of the white soldiers 
who would have killed him on the spot. These things 
have been repeatedly told, but it is not so well known 
that the conqueror took the fallen chief back to Ten- 

212 



The Fiber of "Old Hickory." 

nessee with him and entertained him for nearly a year 
as an honored guest at the Hermitage. 

Through the varied incidents of the Creek war one 
may form an idea of the passions that swayed the 
heart of Andrew Jackson. Whether those of piety or 
profanity, tenderness or fury, his feelings were at all 
times strong. It is not strange then that such a man 
should have been overpraised by some of his biog- 
raphers, while others, who could not understand, mis- 
represented the fiber of Old Hickory's character. 

213 



XIX. 

A RECKONING WITH THE SPANIARDS.* 

At the close of the Creek war General Jackson made 
a treaty of peace with the southern Indians at their 
"holy ground." He next turned his attention to 
those Europeans in America who had stirred up the 
Red Sticks to hostilities against the frontier people. 
He wished to get information as to the true state of 
affairs in West Florida. Pensacola, which was at that 
time occupied by the Spanish Governor Manquerez, 
was, Jackson felt sure, the center from which had 
emanated much evil influence over the Indians. He 
was confident that the town was still used as a place 
of aid and comfort to the English, with whom our 
country was then at war. But he had not sufficient 
proof of the facts to warrant an attack on the fort 
that guarded the city and harbor ; and there was no 
way to find out what it was essential for him to know 
except to send a remonstrance to the governor by a 
messenger who was at once discreet, fearless, observ- 
ant, and intelligent. The man to undertake the er- 
rand must go alone, over a hundred miles, through a 
country inhabited by lately hostile Indians, and at the 
end of his journey he must risk the well-known 
treachery of the Spaniards. To deal to advantage 

*Col. A. S. Colyar acknowledges error in his "Life of 
Andrew Jackson/' in attributing this and other incidents to 
Thomas Kennedy Gordon instead of to Capt. John Gordon, 
to whom they properly belong. 

214 



A Reckoning with the Spaniards. 

with the adroit Manquerez he must possess the qual- 
ities of a diplomat, and above all, he must be one used 
to seeing everything at a glance, and remembering 
what he saw. For this delicate mission Jackson's 
choice fell on his trusted friend, Capt. John Gordon, 
of the spies, a man described by an early historian of 
Tennessee as being "distinguished for never-failing 
presence of mind as well as for the purest integrity of 
principle," a man whose career as a frontier scout 
fitted him to take advantage of whatever circumstances 
might arise, and one, moreover, whose spirit was 
equal to Jackson's own. The iron-willed general had 
more than once tried issues with the border captain 
and had been obliged to yield, as when in a certain 
hot argument between the two an angry expression of 
Jackson's had carried offense to Gordon. Promptly 
Gordon unbuckled his sword (Jackson's gift to him) 
and returned it to the giver with the remark that as 
he proposed to settle the question as between man and 
man, he did not choose to be under obligations for a 
gift. To which Jackson, regaining his self-command, 
replied: "Take back your sword, Gordon. I cannot 
spare you, and our country cannot spare either of us." 
On another occasion the captain of the spies, re- 
turning at night from scouting duty cold and wet from 
exposure, built a fire on the outskirts of the camp with 
which to dry his clothing, not knowing that General 
Jackson had given strict orders that no fires should 
be lighted that night to attract attention of the enemy. 
The general, quickly detecting the blaze, asked who 
had disobeyed his orders. On being told that it was 
John Gordon, of the spies, he sternly said: "Go tell 
Gordon to put out that fire at once." 

215 



Old Tales Retold. 

His messenger soon returned with Gordon's answer : 
"If I am not afraid to sit alone in the light on the 
outside of the camp, General Jackson should not fear 
one distant fire when he is surrounded by his army." 
The reflection on his commander's courage was per- 
mitted to pass unnoticed, and the solitary camp fire 
was not extinguished so long as it pleased Gordon to 
let it burn. 

A picturesque figure in the olden times was this 
small, dark-bearded man who was an object of pe- 
culiar dread to the Indian warriors. He was called 
by them their evil spirit, and was in all, or nearly 
all, of the Indian battles that took place on the Cum- 
berland frontier. Many were the tales told in cabin 
and camp of his daring exploits, and his -unfailing good 
judgment and sincerity of purpose made his an hon- 
ored name among the pioneers. It was such men as 
Gordon, Rains, Martin, Maury, and Williams who 
gave the people security in their border land homes by 
constantly watching along the frontier for Indians, 
ready at a moment's notice to start out after bands who 
entered the settlements to murder and plunder. 

Before sending Captain Gordon to Pensacola, Gen- 
eral Jackson had become convinced that, although 
Manquerez represented a government which continued 
to give our own government assurances of its neutral- 
ity, he was actually making Pensacola a depot of sup- 
plies to the British army, and was sheltering war- 
ships in the harbor. With the object of holding Man- 
querez to account through his messenger, Jackson 
charged Gordon to say to the governor that he de- 
sired to be told plainly if he, as the representative of 
Spain, "meant to pursue a strange, concealed course 

216 



A Reckoning with the Spaniards. 

which under the garb of friendship cloaked all the 
realities of war." Jackson did not expect any other 
than the evasive reply he received in return, but he 
counted upon Gordon to use his eyes and ears while 
in the town, and find out certainly whether or not 
the governor was acting a double part. He desired his 
envoy to make a thorough examination of the place. 
To do so in the most effectual manner the frontier 
scout planned to enter Pensacola at night. This he 
did ; and once inside, he galloped boldly through va- 
rious streets, observing closely, and taking rapid men- 
tal notes as he went. So audacious was the proceed- 
ing that he passed unchallenged, no one suspecting 
who or what he was until he had arrived by his cir- 
cuitous route at the governor's mansion. It did not 
occur to the garrison that he was other than one of 
themselves with dispatches for headquarters. In this 
way the messenger of the American general saw much 
it was not intended he should see, as also in his dip- 
lomatic interview with Manquerez he obtained much 
more full and satisfactory information than it pleased 
the governor to communicate. Among other signif- 
icant facts Gordon noted that a British flag was then, 
at the time he was in Pensacola, flying on one of the 
Spanish forts. He also saw one hundred and fifty or 
two hundred British officers and soldiers, together 
with a park of artillery and about five hundred Indians 
under drill of those officers armed with new muskets 
and dressed in the English uniform. All of this and 
much more which it was of importance for Jackson 
to know he communicated to his general. General 
Jackson become convinced through Gordon's report 
that active war was soon to be made by Great Britain 

217 



Old Tales Retold. 

in the lower country. With the object of putting that 
region in a proper state of defense, he marched his 
army at once to Mobile. A descent on the coast by 
the British fleet was hourly expected to take place. 
Where the blow w r ould be struck no one could tell. 
It was only certain, in Jackson's opinion, that unless 
Pensacola was in the hands of the Americans it was 
hopeless to think of protecting the southern coast. 
From Mobile he sent another messenger to Manque- 
rez taxing him with his duplicity in a long letter which 
he addressed to the governor. "All this is done," 
wrote the American general, "while you are pretend- 
ing to be neutral. You cannot be surprised then, but, 
on the contrary, will provide a fort in your town for 
my soldiers and Indians should I take it into my head 
to pay you a visit. I beg you not to consider me any 
more as a diplomatic character unless so proclaimed 
to you from the mouths of my cannon." 

Shortly afterwards he gave his famous order to 
General Coffee and his Tennesseeans to "Rout the 
British out of Pensacola," and immediately moved his 
army upon the place. With his troops drawn up in 
front of the city, he demanded an immediate surrender 
of the forts of Barancas, St. Rose, and St. Michael, 
which was refused by Manquerez. Whereupon Jack- 
son's next order to General Coffee was : "Then turn 
out the soldiers." 

In less than six hours the Americans had captured 
all the various fortifications of the city, driven the 
ships out of the bay, and had every Briton in the 
vicinity seeking the protection of the Gulf of Mexico. 
The date of this important event was November 7, 
1814. 

218 



XX. 

A DAY WE CELEBRATE. 

Andrew Jackson, the man who won the battle of 
New Orleans on the eighth of January, 1815, hated 
the British with all the energy of his strong nature. 
He remembered bitterly that both his brothers had 
lost their lives in fighting the British in the Revolu- 
tionary War, and that his mother, broken in spirits, 
had soon afterwards died while helping to care for 
the American prisoners and wounded ; and he could 
never forget the time when, as a fourteen-year-old 
boy, he had himself been captured by Tarletans sol- 
diers and ordered to black the boots of a ruffianly 
officer who, upon his refusal to do the menial task, 
hacked him across the head with his sword. All his 
life long, after these early experiences in South Car- 
olina, Andrew Jackson cherished animosity against 
the English nation. The thought that Britons should 
ever again attempt to invade America was enough at 
any time to stir him to anger. Thus his indignation 
was great when, in December, 1814, he learned that a 
large British force under Gen. Sir Edward Paken- 
ham had crossed the seas and were anchored off New 
Orleans. Evidently they meant to capture that un- 
protected port. Maj. Gen. Andrew Jackson resolved 
to send them back to their own country in defeat. "I 
will assail them on their first landing," he declared, 
"and I will perish sooner than they shall reach the 

219 



Old Tales Retold. 

city." If he had any misgivings, he locked them in 
his own bosom. Publicly, he took a solemn oath that 
a tyrant's heel should never again find footing in the 
land of liberty, and forthwith hurried with his Ten- 
nessee and Kentucky volunteers to drive back the in- 
vaders. From experience, Jackson's soldiers knew 
that with him to resolve was to perform. Since the 
successful ending of the Creek War and his reduction 
of Pensacola, they believed Old Hickory could whip 
any force on earth, and were eager to help him carry 
out his plans. He had only to express the wish, or 
give a hint, and a crowd of volunteers offered for 
any service he might require. But the belief that he 
could defeat the enemies who now threatened the 
southern coast was confined to Jackson's followers 
alone. To all others his chance for victory seemed 
small. Why, there were fourteen thousand British 
veterans come from recent victories over the trained 
armies of Europe to meet less than twenty-five hun- 
dred frontier "squirrel hunters" under a "backwoods 
general." At the bare situation cautious statesmen 
stood aghast. A thrill of anxiety swept over the 
United States. Defeat was counted a certainty by all 
but Jackson's little army. The lower country seemed 
doomed. The Mississippi River, all important to its 
prosperity, must inevitably fall under foreign control. 
In New Orleans, particularly, terror prevailed over 
every other sentiment. The citizens, knowing the cus- 
tom of the British army to pillage, burn, and desecrate 
wherever they were triumphant, looked for the worst. 
Besides the fears of the citizens, Jackson had also to 
contend with treachery in the city. Many of the 
mixed French and Spanish population, being used to 

220 



A Day We Celebrate. 

the rule of kings, were opposed to a free form of gov- 
ernment. They did not sympathize with the patriotic 
resolves of the American general. Others were mere- 
ly faint-hearted; and still others, who could see no 
reason to expect success, were in despair. The tim- 
orous, the disloyal, and the pessimistic elements of the 
population all joined in begging Jackson not to excite 
the anger of the British by useless opposition. They 
urged that it would be better to submit in the outset 
than to fight and endanger the safety of the city. 

But to give up without a struggle was a thing An- 
drew Jackson could not do. Fortunately, his Ten- 
nesseeans under Carroll and Coffee believed in him 
thoroughly. They were eager to obey the orders of 
a general who had won their confidence in the Creek 
campaign. Buoyed by their fidelity and relying as 
well on the support of the true-hearted natives of 
Louisiana and Mississippi who had joined his stand- 
ard, General Jackson was able to beat down the oppo- 
sition of those false citizens whom he had come to 
save. Upheld by the faithful few, he ignored dis- 
loyalty in the many, and went to work to fortify 
against the enemy. 

Being sure of the justice of his cause and believing 
firmly that God was on his side, he could afford to 
be calmly hopeful. He could even find amusement 
in the boastful taunts of the invaders. When the Brit- 
ish commander, with light presumption, sent word to 
Jackson, saying, "I shall do myself the honor to take 
my Christmas dinner in New Orleans," Old Hickory 
only smiled and answered with grim humor, "Maybe 
so, but I shall do myself the honor to sit at the head 
of the table." 

221 



Old Tales Retold. 

In order to stimulate the patriotic ardor of all classes, 
Jackson made stirring, direct appeals to the public. 
Upon one occasion he said to them as a whole: "Cit- 
izens of the United States, the enemy you are to con- 
tend with are the men your fathers fought and con- 
quered." To the French he cried: "Natives of 
France, descendants of Frenchmen, they are the 
English, the eternal, the hereditary enemies of your 
ancient country." And to the Spaniards of New Or- 
leans he significantly pointed out that a British com- 
mander had recently dealt treacherously with his Span- 
ish allies at Pensacola. On the other hand, he spoke 
encouragement to the loyal men of Louisiana in the 
words: "Louisianians, your general rejoices to wit- 
ness the spirit that animates you. You are fighting 
for your property and lives — for that which is dearer 
than all, your wives and children." And he sent a 
special messenger to the women in the city who had 
given themselves over to alarm, saying: "Tell them 
not to fear. The British shall not enter the city." 

Some felt greatly reassured by his promise, but the 
majority of the people were harassed by fears. All 
who could get away prepared to fly at a moment's 
warning. Household goods were packed, jewels and 
money were hidden, everything was in readiness for 
flight, when on the twenty-third of December Gen- 
eral Jackson met the British as they landed, and gave 
them their first repulse. Loud was the rejoicing in 
New Orleans. Equally great was the surprise. It 
was hardly believable that Pakenham's veterans had 
been checked by the backwoodsmen under Jackson. 
That being so, however, it began to seem possible that 

222 




ANDREW JACKSON. 



A Day We Celebrate. 

the general might keep his word to them, and rid the 
country of the redcoats. 

From that day the citizens began to watch the 
movements of the little army of Americans with min- 
gled feelings of curiosity and admiration. They could 
not but applaud the energy with which ditches were 
dug and breastworks thrown up some distance below 
the city ; and they saw with astonishment the long line 
of earthworks which ranged in height and width from 
five feet high and four feet thick to eight feet high 
and twenty feet thick, stretching across the swampy 
plain at right angles from the river. A number of 
cannon, including a large thirty-two pounder, had 
been planted at intervals along the embankment. In 
the center, near the great gun, rose a tall flagstaff from 
which floated the "stars and stripes," visible to friends 
and enemies of freedom alike on both sides of the 
river. Behind the barricade was a collection of tents 
and huts which served as sleeping quarters for the 
army, and from the top of each streamed a bit of col- 
ored cloth, an improvised flag, emblem, or ensign. 
Around the whole, Jackson had stretched a cordon of 
pickets with strict orders that no person whatever 
should pass in or out; for there was good reason to 
fear treachery both within and outside the camp. 
It was important that the enemy should not find out 
that the Americans had only about twenty-one hundred 
effective fighting men to defend the place, and above 
all, they must not learn that many of these soldiers 
had no firearms at all, and that the guns of a great 
number were old, broken, and almost useless. Yet 
despite Jackson's precautions, a traitor in the camp 
contrived to steal out and make his way to the British 

223 



Old Tales Retold. 

army. Seeking the enemy's headquarters, the de- 
serter informed General Pakenham that Jackson had 
but few available troops. He also advised him that 
the weakest point along the American barricade, and 
the place where an attack should be made, was in the 
center, near the flagstaff. For there, he said, Jackson 
had stationed the new volunteer riflemen from Ten- 
nessee and Kentucky, under Carroll and Adair. The 
few soldiers of the regular army who were in the 
American camp were posted with the Mississippi and 
Louisiana troops on the right, and General Coffee's 
veterans of the Creek war were on the left. 

Not slow to take the hint, the British general pre- 
pared at once to attack the Americans. On the 7th 
of January, 181 5, his camp became the scene of un- 
usual activity. Couriers rode hither and thither, ord- 
nance was wheeled into position, and field uniforms 
were gotten ready for immediate wear. Among offi- 
cers and men the general feeling was that of over- 
confidence. Hardly a doubt was felt that on the 
morrow they would take the American breastworks 
by storm and plant the English banner on its summit, 
where then waved the flag of freedom. Already the 
soldiers were planning their triumphant entry into 
New Orleans, and bragging in advance of the rob- 
beries and riot in which they would indulge as victors. 
In the tents of the officers, particularly, on that night 
before the memorable 8th of January, unseemly 
jests and boasts over the wine cup showed the spirit 
which animated the invaders.* Well might the wom- 

* "Booty and beauty" was the watchword of the British 
army in the battle of the 8th of January and the toast of the 
officers on the night of the 7th. 

224 



A Day We Celebrate. 

en and children in New Orleans be on their knees, as 
they were, praying that Andrew Jackson's arm might 
be strengthened in battle. The great captain and his 
handful of men were their sole earthly reliance. 

The American outposts having discovered that the 
enemy were about to move, preparations for earnest 
defense were made at once. Arms were cleaned, cart- 
ridges counted out, flints adjusted, muskets and rifles 
reloaded with care, cannon balls were also placed in 
quantities, within convenient reach of the gunners, and 
a bushel or two of iron fragments and musket balls 
were heaped near the large thirty-two pound gun. 
There was no hilarity in the camp of the Americans 
on the night of the 7th. Everywhere were seen 
grave, serious faces. The men were being soberly in- 
structed in their duties by the officers. And just 
before dark Jackson himself walked along the lines 
giving the usual advice of the pioneer commanders : 
"Don't fire until you see the whites of their eyes." 
He warned his soldiers to be watchful against surprise 
during the night, saying to them : "If you must sleep, 
sleep upon your arms." He exhorted them to be 
steadfast in fighting for liberty, "without which," he 
said, "country, life, and property are not worth pos- 
sessing," and added resolutely: "Our country must 
and shall be defended. We will enjoy our liberties, 
or die in the last ditch." As you shall see, Providence 
favors the brave. The historical account of the bat- 
tle which followed is as marvelous as if it were a 
tale of fiction. 

The American soldiers lay all night on their arms, 
many of them stretched on the wet, marshy ground. 
There was not much sleep behind the barricades. Few 
15 225 



Old Tales Retold. 

of the officers had even closed their eyes when at 
dawn next morning they saw a rocket shoot skyward 
from the British camp on the left, illuminating the 
heavy fog that had gathered above the earth. Then 
another rocket soared on the right, near the river. 
It was the signal for attack. Presently the American 
outposts descried a dim, red line advancing toward 
them through the mist. A moment more there came 
the British, charging so rapidly that the pickets barely 
had time to hurry in and escape capture. In solid 
column, sixty or seventy abreast, Pakenham's vet- 
erans were being pushed forward. In the lead were 
the famous Highlanders in brave array. With the 
force of a catapult they were hurled against the Amer- 
ican center, where the Tennessee riflemen were sta- 
tioned. At the same time the British batteries opened 
fire. Showers of bomb and ball poured upon our line. 
All the while the mist was lighted by the trail of 
Congreve rockets in every direction, a new device in 
war to frighten the timid, which had no effect what- 
ever on the backwoods soldiers. As the redcoats 
advanced at a steady pace toward the staff that upheld 
the stars and stripes our men gave three defiant yells. 
Still not a musket was fired, not a fuse was touched 
until the enemy were within two hundred yards of the 
breastworks. Then Carroll gave the word of com- 
mand, "Fire !" and a noise burst forth that can scarce- 
ly be described. It has been said that "rolling, burst- 
ing, echoing sounds" tore through the air. The earth 
seemed to quake and the fog to bellow in the uproar. 
The American breastworks had become a blazing, 
sputtering line of light, and the cannon ranged along 
the parapet seemed to have become a row of fiery 

226 



A Day We Celebrate, 

furnaces. From the center of all, the thirty-two 
pounder, loaded with musket balls and scrap iron, 
emptied its full charge into the head of the advancing 
column. Instantly two hundred of the invaders were 
laid level with the plain. Mortal troops could not 
stand their ground in the face of such a fire. The 
British ranks broke, and the veteran regulars who 
boasted that they were the conquerors of Europe fell 
back in confusion before the work of the flintlock 
rifles and the singularly loaded cannon. General Pak- 
enham rushed to the rescue in person. He rode gal- 
lantly between his men and danger; he waved his 
sword aloft and called to them to come on, and suc- 
ceeded in rallying them for a second charge. The 
British fought boldly, however imworthy their mo- t^ 
tives, that day. Troops who are used to victory often 
display valor even in a bad cause. 

In their next onset the solid mass of infantry moved 
in a brisk run toward the embankment. Reaching it, 
a few of their officers dared to scale the ramparts in 
their reckless courage. But they met with steadfast 
resistance from the men behind the barricades. The 
sharpshooters remained unexcited, and took deliberate 
aim with their antiquated guns. 

There was no pause in their continued volleys of 
musketry, no interlude in the crack of small arms and 
artillery. The firing was so arranged by the officers 
that as one party of marksmen discharged their guns 
and retired to reload another set came forward and 
fired, each loading and shooting in turn, so that there 
might not be a break in the continuous firing nor an 
interval in the destruction of the British. Five hun- 
dred and forty of the famous Highlanders fell before 

227 



Old Tales Retold. 

Carroll's men alone — slain by those undisciplined vol- 
unteers they had affected to despise. Gen. Sir Ed- 
ward Pakenham had been shot, and was dying in the 
arms of his aid-de-camp. All along the line the 
carnage was great. It was no longer possible for the 
British to struggle. They had utterly failed in their 
attempt to carry the earthworks. Seeing the hopeless- 
ness of their case, they fled the field, leaving their dead 
and dying behind, carpeting the earth with scarlet 
coats. The flag of freedom which Andrew Jackson 
loved so well had been preserved unharmed by the 
valor of his men. It floated in victory over twenty- 
six hundred dead and wounded Britons — and only 
thirteen Americans, all told, had been injured. 

While the enemy were still fleeing in confusion a 
handsomely uniformed officer from their ranks with a 
trumpeter and a soldier bearing a white flag advanced 
to within three hundred yards of the earthworks and 
halted. A shrill blast on the bugle drew all eyes to 
the group. The American soldiers crowded the par- 
apet through curiosity to see them, and officers were 
sent out to inquire what was their errand. It proved 
to be a formal proposal for an armistice from Gen- 
eral Lambert, Pakenham's successor in command. 
The request was granted, and several days were hu- 
manely spent by the Americans in helping to relieve 
the sufferings of their wounded enemies. 

Jackson behind his well-arranged earthworks had 
succeeded in repulsing an overwhelming force, but, as 
he himself said, his "best defense was a rampart of 
high-minded and brave men." Nor did he fail to at- 
tribute the chief glory of the day to the Almighty 
Power who, as he firmly believed, had guided him 

228 



A Day We Celebrate. 

to victory. Although a complete conqueror, Jackson 
did not think it prudent with his small force to pur- 
sue the British. Owing to their superior numbers, he 
was forced to content himself with remaining in safety 
behind the breastworks until they retired to their ship- 
ping and sailed for England. Before they left, how- 
ever, they themselves punished the deserter who had 
betrayed the Americans, for they believed that he 
had willfully deceived them and led them into a death 
trap by falsely telling them that the weakest part of 
Jackson's defenses was in the center, where Carroll's 
Tennesseeans were posted. Under this delusion they 
hanged him on a tree in plain sight of both armies. 

On the 20th of January the victorious army en- 
tered New Orleans amid the plaudits of the grateful 
citizens. Women kneeled in Jackson's path as he 
rode at the head of the troops, maidens strewed flow- 
ers on his way, and gray-haired men with streaming 
eyes called down blessings on his head. On the 
twenty-third the conqueror, leading the way for a 
long procession that followed, proceeded to the ca- 
thedral, where public thanks were rendered as due 
to the Giver of all victories. With his help Andrew 
Jackson had saved the city ; he had shielded the inhab- 
itants from robbery and dishonor, and, above all, he 
had convinced the world that foreign tyrants can 
never conquer free America. 

In Tennessee and some other States in the Union 
we perpetuate the memory of his achievements by 
annually celebrating the 8th of January, the day on 
which the battle was fought and won. 

229 



XXL 

THE FALL OF THE ALAMO. 

It was in the spring of 1836. The Texas prairies 
surged in continuous billows of bloom under ceaseless 
Texas winds, while three men were nearing the end of 
their journey across the plains. They were typical fron- 
tiersmen in appearance, fully armed with guns and 
pistols as well as long Bowie knives thrust in the belt 
of their hunting shirts. Though differing in many 
respects, each of the rough borderers carried in his 
bosom a patriotic heart that burned with zeal to up- 
hold the cause of American independence in Texas. 
They had ridden together hundreds of miles through 
perils from wild beasts and hostile Indians, for the 
sole purpose of going to the assistance of those Tex- 
ans who were resisting the Mexican despot Santa 
Anna. Together they had braved storms and floods 
on the way to reach the town of Bexar (since called 
San Antonio), where Col. Barrett Travis, from North 
Carolina, had collected one hundred and forty-five 
Americans to withstand the advance of the whole 
Mexican army. The case of the Americans was 
known to be desperate. Unless relief, in force, should 
speedily reach them they were doomed to destruction. 
Three thousand Mexicans under the red banner that 
meant "no quarter" were marching upon the place. 
Nevertheless the frontiersmen eagerly pressed on to- 

230 




■>?i 




The Fall of the Alamo. 

ward the flag of freedom which floated its stripes and 
single star of Texas over Bexar. 

The youngest of the three, who acted as guide for 
the party, was but a simple bee hunter from the woods 
of Arkansas. He had beguiled the time with many 
a jest and anecdote on the way, and at the moment was 
singing the last lines of an old song : 

"But home came the saddle, all bloody to see, 
And home came the steed, but home never came lie." 

The singer here turned to his companions, explaining 
modestly that there was a girl on Red River waiting 
for his return who had sung that song to him when 
he left home. 

"No girl is waiting for me," said the man on his 
right, with an accent that betokened a better educa- 
tion than that of the bee hunter. "I have come out 
to Texas to stay and live an honest life, or else die 
in fighting to uphold free government against the 
tyranny of Santa Anna. I have promised our friend 
here to give up gambling as a calling and turn my 
back on an evil life." 

To this the third man tersely replied, "Be sure you 
are right, 'Thimblerig,' then go ahead;" then, after a 
reflective pause, added, "By giving your life to freedom 
you may yet win an honorable name. Most men are 
remembered as they died, and not as they lived. One 
of you," he continued, "has forsaken his sweetheart to 
fight for Texas, the other has given up his way of life, 
and, not to be behind you, I have left my family alone 
in my cabin down in the cane of Tennessee, forty 
miles from town. As soon as I heard that the Tex- 
ans were up, I felt that I must join them. My wife 

231 



Old Tales Retold. 

begged me to stay; but if every man waited for his 
wife to tell him to go to war, we would all stay in 
our homes." 

The last speaker was a man of striking appearance. 
His swarthy skin and dark, bright eyes showing be- 
low a fox skin hat gave his face the look of a wild 
creature of the forest. Born and bred a backwoods- 
man, he had chiefly depended on mother wit and con- 
tact with the world to supply what had been left out of 
his education. He was in the habit of boasting hu- 
morously that he could "spell with any of them as 
far as 'crucifix' in the speller," where he had left off 
at school, and declared that he wanted "no college de- 
gree, but a degree of common sense." 

Strongly built and muscular, he was a hunter of big 
game in the forest, his exploits in the wildernesses of 
his native Tennessee being favorite themes for fire- 
side tales throughout the State. In truth he was fa- 
mous as the best shot in the United States with his an- 
tiquated gun "Betsy ;" for this was the notorious "Old 
Davy Crockett, of Tennessee," whose quaint sayings 
and speeches on the hustings and in the halls of Con- 
gress had become household words in many States 
besides his own. Such was the trio who were hasten- 
ing to join Colonel Travis, with a fixed resolve to 
become members of his devoted band, They watched 
their chance, eluded the Mexican outposts, and slipped 
into the death trap from which less brave men would 
only have wished to escape. As they entered the 
American lines cheer after cheer went up from Trav- 
is's men. "Old Davy" with "Betsy" on his shoulder 
was worth, as they believed, a dozen common men, 
and the other two were welcomed as his friends. 

232 



The Fall of the Alamo. 

Travis and Bowie and all the reckless men of the 
border they commanded recognized Crockett as the 
match for the hardiest among them in courage and 
endurance. His unfailing good humor and his odd 
turns of speech made him the center of interest among 
his comrades. It was his droll wit and unlimited store 
of anecdote that kept them all in heart while they were 
awaiting the approach of the enemy. And when the 
Mexicans eventually surrounded Bexar, and it became 
necessary for the American patriots to retire to the 
Alamo, an old mission house near the town, which 
they converted into a fort, Crockett was conspicuous 
among those who set about making it secure. He and 
his friend, the bee hunter, were active in planting the 
American flag on its battlements, and the latter burst 
forth into patriotic song as its folds floated in the air. 
In a clear, full tone of voice that made the blood tingle 
in the veins of all who heard him the Arkansan sang, 

"Up with your banner, Freedom, thy champions cling to thee; 
They'll follow where you lead 'em, to death or victory," etc. — 

an effort which was greeted by three cheers from all 
within the fort. 

Still later when the Mexicans, having entered the 
town of Bexar, began a furious cannonade against 
the Alamo, it was David Crockett who was most skill- 
ful among the sharpshooters in picking off their artil- 
lerists. " 'Betsy' never told me a lie," he would say, 
taking aim at a gunner. "She always sends a bullet 
just where I tell her," and immediately a Mexican 
would fall. In this fashion, with Betsy's help, he killed 
no less than five men at one cannon. Though other 
men in the fort were almost equally skillful, the Mex- 
icans they slew were quickly repaced with new men 

233 



Old Tales Retold. 

from the reinforcements which poured into Bexar at 
Santa Anna's call. 

It was useless to expect a handful of men, however 
brave, to hold out against his overwhelming numbers 
of trained soldiers. If help should not come immedi- 
ately from Goliad and Refugio, whither messengers 
had been secretly sent, the Alamo was lost. And if it 
should fall, the defenders would have small chance 
of their lives, for no mercy need be expected from 
Gen. Santa Anna. 

Realizing their desperate situation, Travis exhorted 
his men to fight to the last extremity. The shout that 
answered him showed that the men understood the 
full meaning of his words. They were resolved to sell 
their lives dearly. But to make sure of their stead- 
fastness, Travis drew a line on the ground with his 
sword and said : "Those who want to fight it out with 
me come inside this line. Those who have had enough, 
and think they can escape, go outside." Every man 
of them stepped inside the line, except one — a Mex- 
ican — who went, no one knew whither. 

On the very next day the messenger to Goliad was 
spied coming back across the plain on the run. Half 
a dozen Mexicans were after him. No time must be 
lost if he was to be saved. "Go ahead !" shouted David 
Crockett to a small party, including the bee hunter, 
who hurried out with him to the rescue. "Be sure 
you are right, then go ahead !" The sudden onslaught 
scattered the pursuers, but in the excitement of the 
chase after them which followed, the Americans went 
so far that they were cut off by a new squad of the 
enemy who got between them and the fort. Thus they 
were forced to fight their way back through ten times 

234 



The Fall of the Alamo. 

their own number. In trying to reach the gate the bee 
hunter was mortally wounded. With Crockett's help 
he managed to get inside the fort, but did not live 
long afterwards. At midnight, as the breath was leav- 
ing his body, the poor bee hunter was heard softly 
singing : 

"But home came the saddle, all bloody to see, 
And home came the steed, but home never came he." 

The sharpshooters were still doing all they could to 
hold the enemy in check until help should arrive. But 
on March 3 David Crockett wrote in the daily record 
of events which he kept throughout the siege, as fol- 
lows : "We have given over all hopes of receiving as- 
sistance from Goliad or Refugio." The entry for 
March 4 was: "Shells have been falling into the fort 
like hail during the day." And on March 5 it was: 
"Pop, pop, pop ! Boom, boom, boom, throughout the 
day. No time for memorandum now. Go ahead ! 
Liberty and independence forever I" This was the 
last entry. In spite of all their efforts a great gap 
had been battered in the wall, and there was nothing to 
keep the Mexicans from entering. 

The fort was stormed before dawn on Sunday morn- 
ing, March 6. Rank after rank, battalion after bat- 
talion, the enemy moved forward under cover of dark- 
ness, and poured through the breach in four columns, 
aided by scaling ladders, axes, and crowbars. Though 
the case was hopeless, the border men met them boldly. 
There was no question of yielding, for the Spanish 
bands were playing "Deguelo" (cutthroat) as a signal 
that no quarter was to be shown. And above the 
church of Bexar the red flag had not ceased to wave 
for fifteen days in token of "vengeance against reb- 

235 



Old Tales Retold. 

els." The Mexicans dashed in on a run, and soon 
drove the Texans to close quarters. Then followed 
a hand-to-hand fight with pistols, Bowie knives, and 
guns that were clubbed. The watchword of the 
American patriots was "God and Texas," and their 
cry was "Victory or death." 

One who witnessed their heroic struggle and lived 
to tell of it was a woman who was acting as nurse to 
Col. James Bowie, the second in command, a brave 
officer from North Carolina. Though Bowie was 
prostrated with typhoid fever, he had his couch placed 
where he could see the fray, and at times take part in 
it from his bed. In the course of the fight a Mexican 
ball grazed the nurse's chin and gave Colonel Bowie 
his death wound. All around was tumult and de- 
struction. Every American was fighting to the death. 
The dead and dying strewed the stone floors of the 
fort, and in places were heaped up as if the spot were 
a veritable slaughter pen. Many, many more Mex- 
icans were killed than Americans, yet there were but 
few defenders of the Alamo left at the end of half an 
hour. The dying Colonel Bowie unfortunately fell 
into the hands of the Mexicans alive. Lying mor- 
tally wounded, he was discovered by two of the offi- 
cers, one of whom asked the other: "Do you know 
him ?" 

"I think," was the reply, "that it is the notorious 
Colonel Bowie, who invented the Bowie knife," where- 
upon they dispatched him in a particularly cruel man- 
ner. 

Colonel Travis had also been mortally hurt by a 
bullet wound. As he staggered under the shock, a 
Mexican officer rushed upon him with a drawn sword. 

236 



The Fall of the Alamo. 

The sword of Travis leaped to meet it in the air, and 
each sunk his weapon in the breast of the other. 

At daybreak David Crockett still held out. The old 
hero was almost alone. With a few comrades he had 
retreated to the inner citadel. There in an angle of 
the fort he stood with his back planted against the 
wall with his shattered rifle in his hand, and a ring 
of dead foes piled around him. At his feet lay "Thim- 
blerig," the gambler, who had died fighting for free- 
dom, and redeemed his ill-spent life. 

Trained battalions had fallen back aghast before 
Crockett's obedient weapon, until finally Gen. Castril- 
lion himself had to come in person with fresh troops 
before the undaunted backwoodsman was taken alive. 
He and five others surrendered under promise of pro- 
tection. Now Santa Anna had issued instructions that 
no quarter should be shown in any case, but Castrillion 
was not cruel by nature, and, seeing that all the other 
Americans were dead, he decided to lead the prisoners 
to headquarters. Saluting his commanding general, 
he said : "Your Excellency, here are six prisoners I 
have taken alive. What shall I do with them ?" 

Santa Anna's brow darkened. Casting a fierce 
glance at Castrillion, he answered : "Why do you bring 
them to me? Have I not told you how to dispose of 
prisoners?" Acting on the hint, several officers 
plunged their swords into the bosoms of Crockett's 
companions. The old hunter, left alone, fixed his 
keen eyes on Santa Anna. As though he were closing 
with one of his forest adversaries, he sprang at the 
Mexican commander's throat. But before he reached 
his prey a dozen carbines were emptied into his body. 
There was a smile on the sturdy Tennesseean's lips 

237 



Old Tales Retold. 

when he fell — a martyr to liberty. He was the last 
of all the defenders of the Alamo to die. Every per- 
son in the fort had been put to death with the exception 
of a woman, an infant, and a negro slave, who were 
only spared to be sent to General Houston, command- 
er of the American forces, with an offer of peace 
based on the condition that the Texans should submit 
to Mexican rule. 

To this offer Houston, who was another indomitable 
Tennesseean, made answer to Santa Anna, saying: 
"True, sir, you have succeeded in killing some of our 
bravest men, but the Texans are not yet conquered." 

Later events proved the correctness of Houston's 
assertion. "The Texans were up" to stay until their 
independence was achieved. In the month of April, 
1836, at the battle of San Jacinto, their battle cry was : 
"Remember the Alamo !" With this slogan they fell 
upon the Mexicans, and at sundown Texas was free. 

238 



XXII. 
A TENNESSEEAN IN TEXAS. 

From being a poor country boy Sam Houston had 
by dint of hard work made a competent fortune and 
risen to the position of Governor of Tennessee at the 
early age of thirty-four years. Imagine, then, what a 
shock it was to the entire State when, soon after his 
inauguration, Governor Houston resigned his office and 
stepped down from his place as ruler of the common- 
wealth. Without a word of explanation, he gave up 
his political hopes; and at the same time, without a 
word of explanation, he abandoned his young bride, 
to whom he had been married only a few months be- 
fore, and left his native State as a self-made exile. 

A sad secret which has never yet been fully told 
lay behind his strange conduct. A disappointment or 
a sorrow, the nature of which the young statesman 
would not tell even to his nearest friends, had wrecked 
his life, as it appeared, forever. Turning his back on 
home and friends alike, Sam Houston forsook civilized 
parts and took refuge in the wigwams of the Cherokee 
Indians, who had lately been removed by the gov- 
ernment from the Hiwassee country to Arkansas. 

But wherever he might be placed, Houston was des- 
tined to be a leader. Whether in the legislative assem- 
blies of Tennessee or in the councils of a savage tribe, 
it seemed that he was to be head man. He gained 
great influence over the Cherokees, and soon rose to be 

239 



Old Tales Retold. 

the principal chief of the nation. From holding this 
singular position he was called on a few years later 
to become the head of still another government. 

The Texans were at that time struggling to throw 
off the yoke of Mexican despotism. Believing that 
they could find no more fit leader for their cause than 
the brave, honest Sam Houston, they urged him to 
come to them and take charge of their tangled govern- 
ment affairs. Though a man of simple ways and one 
who had received little military training, he was chosen 
as the commander in chief of the Texas army. As 
such he must cope with the skillful Spanish-Mexican 
general, Santa Anna, whom his followers styled the 
"Mighty and Glorious." Nothing had heretofore 
checked the success of the ambitious President-Gen- 
eral of Mexico. The Alamo had recently fallen into 
his hands, and soon afterwards a number of Texans 
under General Fannin, leaving Goliad to join Houston, 
had been forced to surrender to one of Santa Anna's 
officers and return to Goliad as captives. By the 
terms of surrender the Texans were to be treated hon- 
orably as prisoners of war, and were to be sent in a few 
days to the United States. On the evening of March 
22, 1836, the prisoners were solacing themselves with 
music and songs. The thoughts of many were turned 
to "the States" by the strains of "Home, Sweet Home" 
upon the flute, when a courier from Santa Anna rode 
into the gate of Goliad. The mysterious manner and 
sinister glances of the messenger, together with the 
secret dispatches given by him into the hands of the 
commanding officer, boded no good in the opinion of 
Dr. Shackleford, a Texas surgeon who was quartered 
with the Mexican colonel in command. Suspecting 

240 



A Tcnnesseean in Texas. 

that treachery was intended, he looked appealingly at 
his host for an explanation. But the question in 
Shackleford's eyes was not answered. 

At dawn next day the surgeon's uneasiness was still 
greater on being aroused from sleep by an unusual stir 
in camp. The Texas soldiers were being separated 
into two divisions. One half were marched off toward 
the south, and the other half were conducted eastward 
a little way from the camp. Now came the loud noise 
of many guns firing from the south, then volleys were 
heard from the east. Shackleford exchanged startled 
glances with the Mexican colonel. Shouts of "Hur- 
rah for Texas !" mingled with cries of pain rose above 
the uproar of the guns. "Can it be possible," asked 
the surgeon, "that they are murdering our men?" 
The Mexican officer bent his head in shame as he 
reluctantly replied: "It is true, but I did not give the 
order nor execute it." 

What is known in history as the massacre of Goliad 
had taken place. At Santa Anna's order three hun- 
dred and thirty prisoners of war had been put to death. 
On hearing of this inexcusable violation of the rules of 
civilized warfare General Houston resolved to con- 
quer the commander who was responsible for it or die 
in the attempt. He considered that the treacherous 
policy of the opposing general must be met by vig- 
orous, firm action on his own part. There must be no 
uncertainty, no delays. He determined in carrying 
out his plans to rely solely on his own judgment and 
to conduct his campaign without consultation with 
any one else. "I hold no councils of war," he 
said; "if I err, the blame is mine." Accordingly, on 
his own responsibility, he began on March 26 the 
16 241 



Old Tales Retold. 

memorable retreat which drew the Mexicans after him 
across a great part of Texas. Starting from Gonzales, 
his little army traveled many weeks, followed by the 
large force under Santa Anna. It was disheartening 
to the handful of men to be led, as it appeared to them, 
aimlessly over weary stretches of prairie where there 
was but little food and less water to sustain life. Yet, 
however hungry or thirsty or tired they might be, 
they were not allowed to stop. Dragging with them 
their only two pieces of artillery (the gift of the city 
of Cincinnati to Texas) which the soldiers called the 
"Twin Sisters," they moved forward steadily, follow- 
ing Houston, they knew not whither nor to what end. 
Rather than continue in this state of doubt, starvation, 
and fatigue, they would have been glad at any time to 
meet the Mexicans in pitched battle. But Sam Hous- 
ton had other views for his army. To their entreaties 
for a fight he replied : "Texas cannot survive two bat- 
tles. You cannot afford to merely check the enemy. 
He must be completely whipped, and the work must 
be done in one fight." Knowing that the time had not 
come to make a stand, Houston retreated, with the 
Mexicans at his heels, until the 20th of April, when 
both armies were encamped near the San Jacinto 
River. Then, his plans being matured, Houston said 
to his men : "Be ready for action at any moment. You 
shall soon have fighting to your satisfaction." 

At noon of the 21st, at the request of his officers, a 
council was held. Houston thought an attack should 
be made at once, but the majority of his officers feared 
the strength of the enemy's position. Santa Anna was 
reported to be there in person, and it was believed 
that his eighteen hundred veteran troops would be 

242 



A Tennesseean in Texas. 

more than a match for the seven hundred raw recruits 
of the Americans. Notwithstanding these reasonable 
objections, Houston resolved, on his own responsibility, 
to make the attack. He had chosen his ground care- 
fully and had made up his mind that here was the 
place and now was the time to give battle. He be- 
lieved firmly that he could defeat the Mexicans, and 
he made all his arrangements for victory alone. With 
this end in view he resolved to cut off the retreat of the 
enemy across the Brazos River, though in doing so 
he would make it impossible for his own army to es- 
cape in case they were not successful. Calling two of 
his soldiers to him, he placed an ax in the hands of 
each and said : "Now, my friends, take these axes and 
make your way to Vince's bridge; cut it down and 
burn it up, and come back like eagles, or you will be 
too late for the day." 

At dawn the next morning Houston, lying in his 
tent, gave three loud taps on the drum that stood be- 
side his bed, then calmly turned over to take the rest 
that had been denied him during the anxious night. 
Instantly the camp was astir. With much commotion 
horses were being saddled, arms put in order, and 
everything was being made ready for the attack. Dur- 
ing all the clatter of preparation Houston slept quietly. 
Not until the earliest sunbeams pierced his closed eye- 
lids did he spring from his cot, exclaiming buoyantly : 
"The sun of Austerlitz has risen again !" At his order 
the "Twin Sisters" were wheeled to within two hun- 
dred yards of the Mexican breastworks, and the troops 
were drawn up in line of battle. Addressing them, 
their commander said : "Fellow-soldiers, do you wish 
to fight ? There is the enemy before you." "We do \" 

243 



Old Tales Retold. 

was the answering shout. "Well, then," said the gen- 
eral, "remember it is for liberty or death. Remember 
the Alamo. Remember Goliad." "We shall remem- 
ber," rang along the lines in a mighty volume of 
sound. At that moment the messengers who had been 
sent to destroy the bridge across the Brazos came 
riding furiously among the troops, each crying aloud: 
"I have cut down Vince's bridge. Now fight for your 
lives and the Alamo !" 

The Texans realized that retreat was cut off for 
them as well as for the Mexicans. They must win 
the fight or perish. An advance movement began all 
along the line. The Americans pressed forward, 
shouting as they ran : "Remember the Alamo ! Re- 
member Goliad!" Without a halt, they went directly 
against the breastworks of the enemy and, poking 
their guns across them, poured their bullets straight 
into the columns of the Mexicans at close range. At 
the same time the "Twin Sisters" were pounding away 
at the solidly massed eighteen hundred Mexicans. 
With enthusiasm the Texans drove their astonished 
foes before them. The cavalry on the right and the 
infantry on the left were equally successful in herd- 
ing the enemy before them like startled sheep, while 
the center won its full share of glory on the field of 
San Jacinto by capturing the whole of the Mexican 
artillery and turning their own guns on the flying foe. 
On the right, on the left, in the center, General Hous- 
ton was one moment here, the next moment there, 
ever in the thickest of the fight, regardless of bullets, 
heedless of the danger of being often in front of his 
own firing line. Within twenty minutes the battle 
was won. The Mexicans were in confused retreat. 

244 



A Tennesseean in Texas. 

The Texans were after them in hot pursuit. It mat- 
tered not that the way led through a deep morass — the 
dead bodies of Mexican men and horses soon formed 
a bridge over the swamps upon which the Americans 
safely crossed. Though few of the Texans were hurt, 
their commander had two or three horses shot from 
under him, and was himself severely wounded in the 
ankle. Still he did not falter. At the head of his 
men he followed the fugitives. The slaughter of the 
Mexicans was enormous. Six hundred and thirty 
were killed, and seven hundred and thirty were taken 
prisoners. Houston, on the other hand, lost but 
eight men. A large quantity of arms, numbers of 
horses and mules, and all the enemy's camp equipage, 
including an army chest containing twelve hundred 
dollars in silver, fell into the hands of the Americans. 

The chase was stopped only by nightfall. Early 
next morning it began anew. Detachments were sent 
in every direction to hunt for fugitives. A party of 
five, searching along the edge of a morass, spied a 
Mexican, who ran from them and stumbled into the 
quagmire. They closed in around the man, and found 
him sunken almost to the armpits. With hard work 
the Americans lifted him out. When the mud which 
bedaubed him had been partially scraped off, an offi- 
cer's fine uniform began to show through the remain- 
ing mire. "Who are you ?" inquired the rough West- 
erners of the soiled exquisite. "A private soldier," 
was the mendacious reply. With loud, derisive 
laughter the Texans pointed to the jeweled studs in 
the muddy shirt, and called for a more reasonable an- 
swer. "If you must know," said the pitiable creature, 
"I am an aid-de-camp to Santa Anna." 

245 



Old Tales Retold. 

Feeling that they had a prize, the soldiers placed 
their captive on horseback (as he was quite unable to 
walk) and conducted him in his forlorn plight to the 
Texan camp. On their way they passed a group of 
Mexican prisoners being guarded near the road. "El 
Presidente! El General Santa Anna!" came in a sub- 
dued expression of surprise from the Mexicans. It 
was indeed the "mighty and glorious" dictator of 
Mexico. In a few moments the humiliated tyrant, 
smeared with slime from head to foot, was in the tent 
of the commander in chief of the Texan army. Hous- 
ton lay in bed suffering from his wound, but he raised 
himself sufficiently to receive the important prisoner 
in proper form. And presently his pain was forgotten 
in deeper feelings as he began to tax the Mexican with 
his crimes at Goliad and the Alamo. In answer to 
Houston's charges Santa Anna had the effrontery to 
declare that he had not been responsible for those 
massacres. He said that his government had ordered 
him to execute the Texans, and that he was bound to 
obey his government. Houston was indignant. He 
raised himself upright in bed and looked the Mexican 
full in the eye while in his stern, deep, bass voice he 
said : "General Santa Anna, you are the government. 
A dictator has no superior." 

Many plain truths were told the fallen despot by 
his conqueror, and he was assured that the brutal 
methods of warfare he used must always fail in the 
end. He was made to understand that liberty-loving 
people are only made more determined by cruel, un- 
just treatment. Houston further informed him that 
the American soldiers were prepared by his atrocities 
to starve rather than yield their right of self-govern- 

246 




SAM HOUSTON. 



A Tennesseean in Texas. 

ment. "See!" said the heroic Tennesseean, holding 
up an ear of dried corn he had taken from his pocket, 
"do you ever expect to conquer men who fight for 
freedom when their general can march four days with 
one ear of corn for his rations ?" 

The shame of that hour was the chief punishment 
that fell upon Santa Anna; for although a few mem- 
bers of the Texas cabinet thought that he should be 
immediately executed, the government finally con- 
cluded that its wisest policy was to deal generously 
with the vanquished general. Thereupon a treaty was 
made by which Santa Anna agreed to take every Mex- 
ican soldier out of Texas, and never again to molest 
the Texan settlers. Thus peace was fully restored, 
further bloodshed was avoided, and the great country 
of Texas was thrown open to Americans, all through 
the "military miracle" performed at San Jacinto by 
a man who was originally an obscure boy in the back- 
woods of Tennessee. 

247 



XXIII. 
SAM DAVIS.* 

Before the War between the States there was a 
comfortable country home in Rutherford County, 
Tenn., near the small town of Smyrna, which is to- 
day of interest to all humanity because under its roof 
a world's hero was born. 

Those who honor the memory of Sam Davis, the 
hero whose birthplace it was, will not be surprised 
to learn that his father was known far and wide as 
a man who feared nothing on earth. Noted equally 
for honesty of character and unswerving principle, he 
was also remarkable in personal appearance for his 
greatness of stature, being six feet two inches in 
height. As a direct contrast in size, Sam Davis's 
mother was an unusually small, gentle woman, with 
soft, sorrow-haunted black eyes that seemed ever 
moistened with unshed tears, as if nature had fore- 
casted in her features the tragic fate of the son she 
idolized. 

Beneath the oaks and elms that spread above the 
ample farmhouse, her dark-eyed boy Sam had grown 
up to the age of nineteen years in loving companion- 
ship with the mother he closely resembled in refine- 
ment of tastes and quietness of manner. The tall, 
rather stern-looking father of the nine Davis children 

*The data for this sketch is from the Confederate Veteran, 
by courtesy of Mr. S. A. Cunningham. 

248 



Sam Davis. 

thought it best for the boy at this age to be sent else- 
where to complete his education. Taking counsel, as 
was his custom, with his wise, though tiny, wife, to- 
gether they selected the Military Academy at Nash- 
ville, then under the able management of Bushrod 
Johnson and Kirby Smith,* as the school to which they 
would send their second son. 

It might well be thought that the prospect of spend- 
ing several years in the capital city of the State would 
have been alluring to the country-bred youth. And 
was there ever a boy who could withstand the tempta- 
tion to shoulder a musket and march in brand-new 
uniform to the sound of fife and drum? Yet it was 
doubted at the time, by those who knew him best, if 
Sam would be willing to stay through one session so 
far from home, even for the sake of the advantages 
afforded by the military school. For although his 
character was distinctly firm, Sam Davis was above 
all else a "mother's boy." He had always clung to 
his little mother with peculiar devotion, and had sel- 
dom been separated from her longer than a day at a 
time. He loved home and all that pertained to home 
life, and was tenderly attached to his younger brothers 
and sisters. Altogether similar to his mother in mod- 
esty and purity of thought and speech, he was, on the 
other hand, like his herculean father in being an ever- 
ready champion of all who were weak or unfortunate. 
Also like his father in unflinching courage, Sam Davis 
did not know the meaning of fear. Induced, per- 
haps, by this combination of traits, the lad consented 
to receive the military training which as a man would 

*Both Confederate generals later. 
249 



Old Tales Retold. 

fit him to protect the oppressed and right the wrong 
in his country's cause. 

However that may be, he left home for Nashville in 
September, i860, and during all his stay there stood 
the separation from his family with quiet fortitude. 
It was only natural for one of his kindly temperament 
quickly to become a favorite at the Academy. His 
dealings with his companions, as well as his relations 
with his professors, were characterized by the same 
directness of purpose and fine sense of honor for 
which his father was conspicuous at home, where the 
worthy man, on account of his upright principles, was 
better known to his neighbors as "Old Straight" than 
as Mr. Davis. With his schoolfellows Sam Davis's 
"word was as good as his bond," and his preceptors 
could well afford to trust him implicitly. 

It was while he was at the Military Academy, in 
the spring of 1861, when he was not yet twenty years 
of age, that the war drums, rolling ominously through- 
out the land, interrupted his studies with a call to 
arms in defense of the South. The situation of the im- 
pulsive yet unprepared Southern States, confronted by 
the strong, well-equipped North, appealed to all that 
was chivalrous in Sam Davis's nature. Being among 
the earliest to volunteer for service, he joined the 
Rutherford Rifles of the First Tennessee Infantry at 
the very beginning of the conflict. With the blessing 
of his father and a few memorable words from his 
mother, Sam Davis was off for the war. 

From time to time good reports of the brave boy 
reached his home. In the autumn of 1863 word came 
that Sam had been selected because of his proven 
courage and discretion to become a member of a 

250 



Sam Davis. 

company of mounted scouts under Capt. H. B. Shaw, 
which General Bragg had organized for the protec- 
tion of the Army of Tennessee. The duty of the 
scouts was to keep the general minutely informed of 
the movements of the Federal army in Middle Ten- 
nessee. In order to do so more successfully, they 
must be daring, active, and keen-witted beyond the 
ordinary soldier. They were expected to penetrate 
into the enemy's lines when necessary to get informa- 
tion. Yet their mission being of a dangerous and 
secret nature, they were obliged to be seen as seldom 
as possible in public. Consequently, they traveled 
chiefly by unfrequented paths and byways in pursuit 
of their aims, and seldom indeed was it that they 
slept in a more luxurious place than a thicket or a 
cornfield where their chance for a full meal de- 
pended largely on the kindness and courage of those 
brave Confederate women who dared to take them 
food by stealth. 

In order to conceal his identity, and thus obtain 
more readily the information desired concerning the 
enemy's movements, Captain Shaw disguised himself 
as a wandering herb doctor, and under the assumed 
name of E. Coleman went unsuspected through the 
country surrounding Nashville, Franklin, Columbia, 
Smyrna, Pulaski, and other Tennessee towns then in 
possession of the Federals. But the private scouts, 
including Sam Davis, wore "the gray" with daring 
pride even when inside the Federal lines. 

During the autumn Davis and five other scouts were 
detailed to get positive information as to the plan of 
action of General Grant's army in Tennessee. They 
were not to fail; the information must be had at any 

251 



Old Tales Retold. 

cost. The enterprise was full of peril. To be seen in 
a gray jacket was to risk being attacked by overwhelm- 
ing numbers. Yet young Davis entered on the service 
without fear or hesitation. While engaged in the 
dangerous work he found himself in the vicinity of 
Smyrna; and being overcome with a desire to see the 
dear home folks, he resolved to slip into the house at 
the first opportunity, no matter how great the risk. 
To be captured with the paper he carried on his per- 
son was, he well knew, to be at the mercy of his 
foes; for his pass read as follows: 

Headquarters General Bragg' s Scouts, 
Middle Tennessee, Sept. 25, 1863. 

Samuel Davis has permission to pass on scouting duty any- 
where in Middle Tennessee or north of the Tennessee River 
he may think proper. 

By order of General Bragg. 

E. Coleman, Commanding Scouts. 

Therefore it was with the utmost caution that Sam 
Davis approached his home one night in November, 
1863, and gently tapped on the window. The signal 
was understood. The door was softly opened, and 
once more the soldier boy's arms were around his 
mother's neck. Again his head rested contentedly on 
her bosom, in the old family room, so dear to memory, 
while they talked in low tones, not to awaken the two 
little sisters lying asleep (or supposed to be asleep) 
in the familiar trundle-bed. Truth to tell, the younger 
one lay listening to every word, though she understood 
little of what was said until Sam, rising to leave, 
turned and bent above the low bed as he said im- 
pulsively: "Mother, I must look at the children." 
"Sh-sh ! Be careful," whispered Mrs. Davis, in terror 

252 



Sam Davis. 

lest the little ones should learn of their brother's re- 
turn and by incautious words to the servants be the 
means of betraying him to the Federals. She was 
nervously alarmed, therefore, when Sam's dark head 
bent still lower to snatch a kiss from the lips of each 
childish slumberer. The one who feigned sleep, bat- 
tling with her longing to throw her arms around her 
soldier brother's neck, managed still to keep quiet 
while he was hurried from the room by the apprehen- 
sive mother, who sped him on his errand of danger 
once more with a fervid "God bless my boy." 

It was the final parting of mother and son, who 
were never to meet again on earth. Only a few weeks 
later news came by "grapevine"* that a scout named 
Davis had been "caught by the Yankees" and hanged 
as a spy at Pulaski on Friday, the 27th of November. 

Judging from the direction Sam had taken, and 
knowing his probable whereabouts at that date, his 
parents at once feared it was their boy who had been 
executed. The agony of suspense was not to be borne 
without an effort to learn the truth. Some one must 
go to Pulaski to ascertain the facts. Some good 
friend was needed to aid them in their extremity. 
Such a one was at hand in the person of Mr. John 
C. Kennedy, whom they knew to be both bold and 
prudent as well as trustworthy in every respect. In 
his pathetic appeal to him the distressed father said: 
"Go, John ; see if it is our son. If it is Sam, do your 
best to get his body and bring it to us." 

It was decided that little Oscar, the youngest son, 
should accompany Mr. Kennedy. As soon as Mrs. 

* "Grapevine" news was intelligence conveyed privately by 
other means than telegrams or official reports. 

253 



Old Tales Retold. 

Davis could supply food for both and clothing for 
the child sufficient for the journey, they were ready 
to mount the farm wagon and start on their melan- 
choly errand. But before they departed, Mrs. Davis 
took their kind friend aside and, placing a scrap of 
plaid linsey in his hand, falteringly said : "It is a piece 
of the cloth with which I lined my boy's jacket. You 
will know certainly it is Sam if his jacket is lined with 
the same." 

It was necessary for the travelers to go by way of 
Nashville to procure a pass from General Rousseau, 
who, as it happened, was under obligations to Mr. 
Kennedy for kindness received from him before the 
opening of the war. Rousseau remembered the ben- 
efit gratefully, and readily granted the request for 
safe conduct through the lines. The pass, however, 
included only territory as far south as Columbia, Gen- 
eral Rousseau declaring that he had no power to give 
one beyond that point. Compelled to be satisfied with 
the document as it stood, Mr. Kennedy proceeded to 
Columbia, trusting to chance and his own ingenuity 
to take him farther on his way. He drove through 
Columbia without interruption, and was not halted 
until he neared Pulaski, where he was challenged by a 
soldier in blue. The soldier, who happened to be a 
Dutchman, was unable to decipher all the words of 
the lengthy pass. Glancing over the paper, which 
looked somewhat like a fifty-dollar bill and was quite 
awe-inspiring to the foreigner, the Dutch guard saw 
plainly the name of General Rousseau attached, and 
promptly motioned for the wagon to pass. Another 
picket was hoodwinked in the same way, and Mr. 

254 



Sam Davis. 

Kennedy was soon in the presence of the provost mar- 
shal. "How did you get in here?" questioned the 
Federal officer sternly. 

"On a pass from General Rousseau," was the reply. 

"Let me see it," demanded the provost. When he 
had carefully examined the paper, he turned on Ken- 
nedy, exclaiming: "You know that pass isn't any 
account." 

"Yes, I know," was the quiet retort; "but I am in 
here now." 

"Well, what do you want?" asked the irritated Fed- 
eral. 

"I have been sent," explained Mr. Kennedy, "by 
the parents of a boy named Sam Davis to take up the 
body of a Confederate soldier who was hanged here 
on the 27th of November, to see if it is their son." 

The whole manner of the provost changed. He 
sprang forward eagerly, as he grasped Kennedy's 
hand in both his own, and said with genuine emotion: 
"Tell that boy's father that he died with the honor and 
respect of every man and officer in this command. 
You are at liberty to take up his body. If you need 
protection, I will give you a company, sir ; if necessary, 
you shall have a regiment." 

The offer of troops was courteously declined, as 
they were not thought needful, and Mr. Kennedy pro- 
ceeded to the grave, accompanied by Oscar and Maj. 
A. R. Richardson, who was at that time Clerk of the 
County Court of Giles County. As they neared the 
spot they were joined by a number of Federal soldiers, 
who, far from molesting them, doffed their caps and 
offered to assist in opening the grave. But the two 
Southern men preferred to perform the task in privacy. 

255 



Old Tales Retold. 

Accordingly, with the help of a negro man they had 
employed, they threw out the dirt and brought to the 
surface the rough case in which the hero had been 
buried. The lid was removed, and there was dis- 
closed the mortal form from which a pure, patriotic, 
brave, and faithful soul had been suddenly wrenched 
through the cruel exigencies of war. 

The height, about five feet seven or eight inches, 
the apparent age, near twenty-one years, and the 
slender build all corresponded to that of Sam Davis. 
To more fully prove his identity, Mr. Kennedy turned 
back the coat and compared the lining of the gray 
jacket with the piece of linsey given him by Mrs. 
Davis. They were alike. To make assurance doubly 
sure, he unwound from about the neck the cords of the 
hangman's cap (a badge of shame which in this case 
has long since been transformed by the public heart 
into a crown of honor and glory), and, turning back 
the cap far enough to disclose the tipper lip, marked 
faintly with the dark, silky growth of the young man's 
first mustache, he was fully convinced that the body 
was that of Sam Davis. 

Before turning homeward Mr. Kennedy tried to 
gain all the information possible concerning the trag- 
edy of Sam Davis's death. Upon careful inquiry he 
learned the following facts: 

On the 20th of November Captain Shaw and sev- 
eral of his scouts, having obtained all necessary knowl- 
edge of the plans of the Federals, were on their way 
back to Confederate headquarters, when they were 
captured by a band of "Kansas Jayhawkers." Shaw's 
identity was not discovered, through his having been 
known as "Coleman," and he was lodged with the 

256 



Sam Davis. 

others in jail in Pulaski. About the same time Sam 
Davis was also taken prisoner, but at what point or 
under what circumstances could not be learned, though 
diligent inquiry was made of all persons likely to 
know the particulars of the capture. In his efforts 
to find out the truth, Mr. Kennedy went to Captain 
Armstrong, the sympathetic provost marshal, and 
said, 'The boy's father will want to know where and 
how he was taken ;" to which Captain Armstrong re- 
plied, "I don't know." 

"Provost Marshal, and don't know ?" exclaimed Ken- 
nedy incredulously. 

"No," replied the officer, "it is a secret not men- 
tioned in the report of the arrest. Here are my 
books,'" he continued, opening out the army records 
to prove his sincerity, and allowing Mr. Kennedy to 
see for himself that there was no account of the details 
of Sam Davis's capture set down in the army records. 
He was informed, however, that when Davis was 
caught he was rigidly searched, and that accurate 
maps of the fortifications around Grant's front were 
found in the seat of his saddle. The soles of his 
boots, on being split open, were found to contain other 
important papers which proved him to be beyond a 
doubt a Confederate scout. This necessitated his be- 
ing carried to the headquarters of General G. M. 
Dodge, commanding the Sixteenth Army Corps at Pu- 
laski. While the prisoner stood before him, General 
Dodge sat at his desk looking over the captured pa- 
pers, his face growing more grave with every line he 
read. Finally, looking up, he remarked that the accu- 
rate information they contained concerning the Federal 
army must have been obtained from some one in a 
17 257 



Old Tales Retold. 

position to have special opportunities for knowing the 
facts. He then appealed to the young Confederate 
to tell him who had given him the papers, making him 
an offer of life and liberty if he would speak the 
offender's name. As the prisoner remained silent, he 
was gently reminded that as he was a young man it 
would be a pity for him to lose his life, yet that un- 
less he told what he knew it would be the General's 
duty to call a court-martial and try him as a spy, and 
it was demonstrated to him that from the proofs at 
hand he would surely be condemned to death. Then 
the boy spoke, saying: "General Dodge, I know the 
danger of my situation, and I am willing to take the 
consequences." 

Though the General pleaded with him long and ear- 
nestly, trying to persuade him to take the course that 
would save his own life, the honest soul of Sam Davis 
did not falter. In his opinion it would have been 
treachery to tell, and he preferred death to dishonor. 
To all persuasions his one reply was: "I will not be- 
tray the trust imposed in me." 

The court-martial met. Davis was condemned, and 
sentenced to be hanged on the following Friday, the 
27th of November. Promptly at ten o'clock a.m. 
drums were beating time to the dead march, while a 
full regiment of infantry marched down to the jail. 
A wagon with a coffin in it was driven up, and the 
provost marshal went into the jail and brought Davis 
out. 

Messengers from General Dodge had been again 
and again to the prisoner, begging him to tell his 
informer's name and he would yet be spared. Con- 
federate comrades in the jail had also implored him 

'258 



Sam Davis. 

not to sacrifice himself for the sake of another. He 
met their entreaties with the invariable reply : "The 
man who gave me the information is more important 
to the Confederacy than I am." To the Federal offi- 
cers he persisted in saying: "I will not tell." 

Having calmly made up his mind to die, he wrote 
the night before the execution a simple note of fare- 
well to his mother, and committed his soul to God in 
earnest prayer. Later he joined with the chaplain of 
the Eighty-First Ohio Infantry in singing, "On Jor- 
dan's stormy bank I stand," the old hymn which had 
nerved many a soul before his to cross the mysterious 
river of death trustingly. The good chaplain, Rev. 
James Young, rode with him to the place of execution 
and at the foot of the gallows awaited with him the 
final preparations for death. The bristling bayonets 
of a regiment of troops walled in the gallows place 
within a hollow square. In the center sat Sam Davis 
on his coffin, his head drooped low, his eyes fastened 
on the ground. Beside him sat the chaplain. The 
moment of execution was very near when a mounted 
officer of General Dodge's staff dashed through an 
opening quickly made in the hollow square for his 
passage. He rode up and dismounted near the pris- 
oner, and, addressing him with great earnestness, said : 
"I suppose you have not forgotten the offer of Gen- 
eral Dodge?" 

Without looking up, Sam Davis replied : "What is 
that?" 

"Your horse, your side arms, and an escort into the 
Confederate lines, if you will tell who gave you those 
papers." 

Without raising his head the prisoner replied: "I 

259 



Old Tales Retold. 

will die a thousand deaths before I will betray a 
friend." 

The staff officer, Captain Chickasaw, was deeply 
concerned that he was not able to move the resolution 
of the condemned man. Before leaving him to his 
fate he said : "I've one more question to ask you." 

"What's that?" asked the prisoner, without lifting 
his head. 

"I want to know if you are the man our scouts 
chased so close on the Hyde's Ferry pike last Tues- 
day that you beat their horses in the face with your 
cap and got away ?" 

Taken by surprise, Davis suddenly threw back his 
head, crying: "How do you know that?" 

"It is sufficient that I know it," replied the officer. 
"Are you the man?" 

"I've nothing to say," was the only answer, as Davis 
again dropped his head. 

It was generally believed that he was the man, and 
would not make an admission which might incriminate 
some one else. Keeping faithful silence on this sub- 
ject and refusing to the last to tell who gave him the 
maps and plans found in his saddle, the young man 
ascended the scaffold and was hanged. 

To learn the truth concerning Sam Davis's capture, 
Mr. Kennedy used every means of getting reliable in- 
formation, but found the mystery surrounding the 
circumstances to be impenetrable. In discussing the 
matter afterwards, the boy's father significantly said 
to his friend : "Don't you know, John, that if Sam was 
brave enough to beat the Yankees' horses in the face 
with his cap he would never have been taken alive — 
except through treachery?" Yet no evidence of 

260 



Sam Davis. 

treachery has ever been discovered. The veil of mys- 
tery has never been lifted from the truth concerning 
the capture. Suffice it to know that Sam Davis "suf- 
fered death on the gibbet rather than betray his 
friends and his country." 

The day after the body was exhumed Mr. Ken- 
nedy proceeded with it to Columbia on the homeward 
journey. There he found the river too high to be 
safely forded, and the ferryboat was in charge of the 
Federal troops, who were thick about the landing. As 
it was necessary to apply for permission to cross, he 
gave the lines to Oscar, warning the child not to do 
any talking if he should be questioned. Then, ap- 
proaching the officer in command, he said : "I have the 
body of a dead man in the wagon. If you will allow 
your men to take us across, I shall be thankful." 

"Whose body is it ?" asked the Federal. 

There was no evading the reply: "Sam Davis, who 
was hanged at Pulaski last Friday." 

The officer bared his head at the name whose uplift- 
ing influence stirs every honest heart with tender rev- 
erence for the young Confederate hero, and instantly 
gave orders for the wagon to be ferried across. 

Mr. Kennedy, on his return, found Oscar sur- 
rounded by "bluecoats." Evidently the boy had been 
induced to tell whose body was in the coffin, for an 
air of sympathy pervaded the crowd of soldiers. With 
roughly expressed kindness, one of them insisted that 
Mr. Kennedy should not attempt to lead the team 
down the steep river bank to the ferryboat, saying to 
him: "Get up in that wagon, Mister; we'll attend to 
the horses." The soldiers crowded around the wagon 
and eased it down the incline, some grasping the 

261 



Old Tales Retold. 

horses' bits while others held back the vehicle to give 
it a gentle descent to the water's edge. When the 
river had been crossed they literally "put their shoul- 
ders to the wheels" and by main strength aided the 
horses to climb the almost perpendicular bank on the 
other side. When the top was reached the soldiers 
paused, in respectful silence, while Mr. Kennedy ex- 
pressed his appreciation of their generous service. 
As the funeral wagon drove slowly away, the blue- 
coated men lifted their caps with one impulse, and 
stood uncovered so long as they could see a trace of 
the soldier boy who had perished in "the gray." 

262 






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